


Fine Again.

by rubyrosettared



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-14 19:12:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 121,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5754961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyrosettared/pseuds/rubyrosettared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to 'Sugar and Cyanide'. The story begins in 2000 and John Mitchell is embracing sobriety once again but there are those in play who would rather not see that happen and someone wants revenge. </p><p>Originally posted up at fanfiction.net, this fic has undergone one or two very minor changes, mainly a major character has had a name change. Where possible, i've tried to stick as close to canon as possible though one or two liberties have been taken. The story is predominantly set before the events of Being Human itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Fine Again.**

**Chapter One:**

He’s new here.

She likes to think that she knows everyone in this hospital and he has the kind of face that she wouldn’t forget in a hurry. It’s his eyes that hold her attention, slanted and faintly cat like, watchful and dark. They make his face interesting to look at. He’s handsome but he also seems to keep to himself.  From experience, she knows the blokes who know that they’re good looking use it to their advantage. They ask for impossible favours and take a breath-taking variety of liberties and all because they’re handsome. They inevitably get away with it all when it all goes pear shaped.  He is handsome but he seems to be unaware of the fact which to her is a novelty.

He’s different. He’s quiet, industrious and solitary. He keeps himself apart from everyone else. Oh he’s polite enough but he says very little. He looks almost like he’s lonely.

She notices how he watches people, he’s very observant, not a lot gets past him but at the same time he keeps his head down and gets on with the task at hand. She can’t fault him and she should leave it at that but there’s something about him that niggles. She can’t quite put her finger on it but there’s something… _weird_ about him.  She watches him for a little while longer, nursing the plastic cup of substandard tea in her hand. He hasn’t acknowledged her presence, hasn’t looked in her direction and has worked steadily, mopping the floor, clearing up after an unfortunate incident regarding a patient with a distinctly sensitive stomach.

“Shannon?” She turns at her name and she smiles.

“Hey Abby, is break time over?” Abby nods regretfully and Shannon sighs. She takes another mouthful of her tea and then dumps the cup into the nearest bin. She casts one more look at the porter who is still mopping up the puke splattered across the floor.

“Do you know him?” She indicates him with a nod of her head and sees Abby peer in his direction. She looks back at her and shakes her head.

“No, the porters are a dime a dozen here but I could find out?” She winks suggestively and Shannon’s eyes widen with horror.

“Oh God no, I was just curious, he’s a new face that’s all,” she breathes. She pauses and takes a deep breath and flexes tired shoulders. “Okay, once more unto the breach,” she mutters and follows Abby onto the ward.

 

He turns his head when he hears the squeak of the door swing shut and he pauses momentarily.

He knew that she was there and that she had been watching him. He could hear the regular thump of her heartbeat, tried to ignore it. Instead he deliberately kept his head down and concentrated on the task at hand and willed her to go away but she hadn’t. She’d stayed by the notice board and sipped at her tea and watched him.

* * *

 

Accident and Emergency is busy at this time of night. She hates working weekends because that’s when all the drunks and the morons come out to play with various injurious consequences which involve blood, vomit, piss and worse. She hates the bingers the most. She’s lost count of how many times her shoes have been puked on, how many times she’s had to change her scrubs. It’s why the trainers that she now wears are ultra cheap because then she won’t feel so annoyed when they’re ruined. Thoughts of the mysterious new porter vanish from her head as the trials of her job take over.

He’s pretty much ignored in the A&E department as he pushes his mop and bucket around. It’s pretty mad in here tonight. He turns his head as an occupant of one of the beds suddenly lurches upright and the contents of his stomach are expelled over the attending medics. They scatter but one of them isn’t quick enough and she gets the brunt of it. It soaks the front of her scrubs and he watches her look down at her shoes and sigh. He recognises her from the corridor earlier.

“Shannon, go and get changed,” one of the doctors instructs her as the other doctors wrestle their patient down onto his back again. He watches how she hurries out before pushing his bucket and mop towards the bed. He works quickly, deftly, keeping out of their way but keeping his ears open at the same time.

Shannon winces in disgust at her vomit stained clothing. It never bloody fails. She sighs and opens her locker and drags out her sponge bag, a clean set of scrubs and a fresh pair of shoes and socks. The thing with vomit is that it gets everywhere, clings to everything and absolutely stinks and right now she smells disgusting.  She needs to shower it off and hope that she doesn’t get hit again because if she does, she’s seriously thinking about painting a target on her front and being done with it.

She quickly strips and jumps beneath the lukewarm shower jets. She sluices and washes and soaps but the smell clings to her nostrils. She dries herself down and dresses and fastens up her damp dark red hair. She goes back into the locker room and she starts when she sees the girl standing beside the row of lockers.  Shannon glances at her as she opens her locker and pushes her soap bag and towel back inside. She doesn’t seem to be doing much of anything except watching her with a glint in her eye. Shannon glances at her again as she slams the door shut and then clips her ID badge onto the waistband of her clean scrubs.

“Can I help you with something because you’re not really supposed to be in here,” she enquires as she straightens her scrub top and regards her more directly.

The girl turns to face her more fully. “Is that a fact?” she answers.  Shannon looks at her. She’s a pretty thing, no more than eighteen or nineteen years old with a heart shaped face, big blue eyes and thick blue black hair that is tied back. She’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt and jacket. Her skin is porcelain pale and flawless. She’s a photographer’s dream.

“Yeah, sorry, if you tell me where you need to be, I’ll be happy to direct you there.” She heads towards the exit and stops when the girl gets there before her, moving at a speed that doesn’t seem possible. She smiles but it’s cold and doesn’t go anywhere near her eyes.

“I think I’m right where I need to be actually and I’m hungry.” She takes a step towards her and automatically Shannon takes a step back at the same time reaching for the door handle. The girl’s hand slams the door shut and she stares at her.

“You don’t understand, I’m _hungry,_ ” she hisses and Shannon frowns in puzzlement.

“Then I can very easily show you to the cafeteria instead,” she explains patiently, wondering if she’s wandered off from the psych ward by accident. The girl frowns. Shannon yelps as she grabs the front of her scrubs and spins her around.

“I want a snack you moron and you’ll do nicely.” With that, she pushes her into the lockers and her eyes scorch black. She grabs her before she can fall down and she unceremoniously hauls her back onto her feet. She drags her around the corner, out of immediate view.

* * *

 

Call it a spider-sense or something but the moment Mitchell sees the man walking through the A and E department, he recognises him, what he is. Maybe it’s down to the fact that he isn’t taking an interest in the chaos unfolding around him but he gets his attention. Then again the dark suit that he’s wearing might have something to do with it. He’s too smartly dressed for a place like this and he doesn’t seem to be with anyone in particular.  He watches him slide through the double doors that lead out of A and E and curiosity gets the better of Mitchell. Pushing his mop and bucket, he follows.

He emerges into the corridor and turns his head to the left and sees him further down.  Mitchell frowns and wonders where he’s going because there are no wards down there; it’s just admin offices and the staff locker rooms. A thought occurs to him and he leaves his mop and bucket propped up against the wall and he keeps on following him.

He doesn’t seem to be aware that he’s being tailed and Mitchell is careful to stick to the shadows. He’s had plenty of experience in doing that. His footsteps don’t make a sound as he gains ground on the other man until he eventually stops outside what Mitchell recognises to be the women’s locker rooms. So he’s a perv as well as a member of the Undead Society now is he?  He darts forward as the other vampire reaches for the handle.

“Sorry mate, you can’t go in there, it’s the ladies locker room, staff only.” He indicates the sign on the door and watches him look at it. He uses the opportunity to slide in between him and the door handle. The vampire gets a good look at Mitchell and his eyes briefly widen in recognition but not in surprise.

“Hey, you’re…” he begins.

Mitchell straightens up. “Yeah,” he retorts quickly in confirmation and the other vampire smiles.

“We’ve been looking for you mate,” he comments and Mitchell frowns at him.

“We, who’s we?” he enquires. The other vampire reaches for him but Mitchell gets out of the way quick smart. Other vampires looking for him never bode well for anyone. Instead he shakes his head and smiles.

“I don’t think so, not until you tell me your name,” Mitchell replies.

“It’s Jimmy.”

Mitchell smiles. “Well _Jimmy_ , I am who you think I am and I’m also telling you that you’re _not_ allowed in there. Unless someone else is in there and in that case, you’re in trouble.”

“Why would that be?”

Mitchell lets his eyes turn shiny black. “Because you’re on my patch and I don’t like trespassers,” he informs him.

* * *

 

The back of Shannon’s head hits the metal of the lockers and she literally sees stars. She groans as her legs give out from under her and she slides to the floor with a bump. Her hand comes up to cradle the back of her head and her eyes widen when she sees the girl advance towards her once more with those insane empty black eyes and what look like vampire fangs on full show. Shannon’s eyes go wide with a combination of horror and disbelief.

“Whoa! What the _fuck_?” she yells in fright as the girl grabs the front of her scrubs and hauls her to her feet with what feels like very little effort. The girl grins obscenely at her. Shannon grabs her wrists and she digs her nails into the pale skin.

“What the hell kind of drugs are you on? You’re not going to find anything here, this is the locker rooms you…stupid…girl!” she exclaims.

“Shut up,” the girl hisses at her.

“Oh like you can make me,” Shannon retorts and she kicks out at her. The girl lets go of her and Shannon crashes back into the locker with a loud clatter.

“Oh you’re going to wish you hadn’t done that,” the girl warns her as Shannon struggles to straighten up. She stares up at her, eyes wide with fright and thinks that perhaps the girl is right.

* * *

 

Mitchell jolts when he hears the loud yell and Jimmy’s head also swings around. Mitchell reacts and he grabs the lapels of his suit and he throws a punch at him. Jimmy staggers backwards and this gives Mitchell the time he needs to get into the locker room.

At first he’s thrown because he can’t see anything in front of him except for a row of lockers. He turns his head to the right and then the left but still doesn’t see anything. Then he realises, the sound must’ve come from behind the lockers.

Shannon is frozen with ice cold fear and her head is filled with the sound of loud inhuman hissing. Her eyes widen as the girl grabs her by her throat and slams her viciously up against the hard metal of the lockers. The force of it makes pain explode in her head and she literally sees stars, her vision darkens around the edges. Her lungs are saturated with the scent of a sweet flowery perfume that is at odds with the young girl who has her face pushed up against her neck. She can feel the warmth of her breath against her skin. She begins to lift her and at the same time Shannon is beginning to choke, as she feels her air supply being cut off. She gasps and claws at her hand, at her wrist while black spots dance merrily in front of her eyes. She’s somehow aware of hearing the locker room door fly open. The girl turns her head and abruptly releases her grip on Shannon. She clatters back against the locker once more as she drags air into starved lungs. She hits the floor again and she stays still, curled up in a foetal position, covering her head with her arm and she just waits.  She then hears muffled footsteps hurry around the corner and she tenses.

“Jesus.”

She feels someone touch her arm and she flinches away from it, her back hitting the lockers.

“Relax, you’re safe, I’m not going to hurt you,” a different voice reassures her urgently. It’s a male voice with an Irish accent. She feels hands touch her arm and she pulls it away and drops it as she lifts her head. She squints; everything seems a little blurry and out of focus as her eyes scan the room worriedly.

“Where did she go? Did you see where she went?” she demands on the verge of all out panic, her voice is husky, her throat is raw. Her eyes cling to his.

“It’s alright, she’s gone, you’re safe, I don’t know where she went,” he tells her, his dark eyes scanning her face urgently. He sees the red marks around her throat but he doesn’t see any puncture marks but he can smell blood.

“Are you okay, are you hurt?” he asks. She frowns at him and then she recognises him as the porter from earlier.

“My head…” she admits and she watches as he reaches behind her and winces when she feels him touch the back of her head. He’s gentle but it still hurts.

“You’ve cut it, it might need stitches. Do you think you can stand? I’ll take you to A and E.” She nods and he reaches for her arm and helps her to get to her feet. At that point in time they hear the door open again and Mitchell spins around, going to stand protectively in front of her. Two nurses come into view and they stop and stare at him.

“What are you doing in here?” one of them demands in outrage, the other one goes behind Mitchell and sees Shannon. Her eyes widen and she stares at him.

“That wasn’t me,” Mitchell retorts, holding both hands palms outwards. He glances at her over one shoulder. She’s frowning and touching the back of her head.  Her frown deepens when she sees the blood painting her fingertips.

“Shannon?”

 She turns her head. “Abby.”

“You were taking ages getting changed and we’re swamped. What happened?” Abby goes to her and slides an arm across her shoulder. Her eyes go wide at the marks she can see on her neck.

“I think I was…mugged…she was going to… _hurt_ me but he stopped her…scared her off.”  She looks at him, her hand going to touch her throat, she rubs at it gently and frowns. “Thanks…I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Mitchell,” he replies quietly, frowning at her. He remains rooted to the spot as the nurses leads Shannon out of the locker room. He can see a trickle of blood slip down the back of her neck to stain the neckline of her scrub top. He stares at it and unconsciously he licks his lips. She’s going to need stitches and she’ll probably have one hell of a headache later.  He watches as the nurses leave with Shannon in between them. He’s alone and he turns and he walks to the entrance of the shower room. The floor is wet and he can smell the duelling scents of shampoo, soap and something else in the warm moist air. He frowns. It’s sweet and flowery and it triggers a memory that floats around the periphery but doesn’t fully engage.

 He looks up at the narrow window high up in the wall. It’s half open and he stares at it speculatively. She had said that her attacker was female and she’d have to be pretty fit and agile to get up there and out so quickly. He turns his head. Jimmy was a vampire; it makes sense that whoever was in here is one too. So why did he say he was looking for _him_ when the last place he’d be, would be in the ladies’ changing rooms? He sighs as he looks down at his hands and he sees her blood on his fingertips. He stares at it for a moment and he feels his eyes scorch shiny black as he lifts them closer to his face, closer to his lips, inhaling its scent. He then pauses and takes a deeper breath and wills his eyes back to normal. He wipes his fingers roughly against his scrub top. He turns and exits the locker room.

Once in the corridor he pauses. He looks left and right but the corridor is empty. He listens but everything is as it should be. He sighs quietly and heads into the direction of A and E.

He sees her sitting on the side of a trolley. A nurse is taking a look at her head wound. As Mitchell walks by, she catches his eye and her smile is tentative. His is equally as wary.

* * *

 

It’s still dark when his shift ends. He trudges back to the men’s locker room. His entire body aches, he’s starving and exhausted but he just wants to sleep. His eyes feel sore and gritty and he politely covers a yawn as he heads for his locker. There are other blokes in here but he doesn’t make eye contact and he keeps his head down.  He’s not here to make friends or to socialise. He doesn’t trust himself to do that just yet.

He changes into his street clothes and shrugs on his jacket and zips it up. No one speaks to him, no one asks him what he’s planning to do with the rest of his day, he doesn’t have anyone for that and one part of him is glad but another part wishes that he did have someone who cared enough about him to enquire.

That’s the one thing that he really doesn’t like about his new state, his fascination with the human race, with how they look, think and be. For decades they’ve been a means to an end to him, to charm and to use when he’s feeling bored or hungry, something to pass the time with but now it goes beyond that. He’s genuinely curious about them in a way that doesn’t involve blood and feeding and death; he wants to be part of it all again but he still isn’t sure where to start or how.

The freezing cold pre-dawn air stings his skin and he barely manages to contain the shiver that ripples through him. His thoughts go back to Shannon. He didn’t see her for the rest of his shift so he wonders whether she was sent home. He hopes that she’s okay. He buries his chin into his jacket and he hunches his shoulders and pushes his hands into his jacket pockets and he follows the others out of the hospital.

 


	2. Chapter Two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A budding friendship begins to develop...

**Chapter Two:**

He lets himself into his tiny little flat and he sighs quietly as he closes the door behind him. He lets his shoulders slump, his arms fall lax to his sides. For a brief moment he allows his chin to drop to his chest and he closes his eyes.  After a second he takes a breath and lifts his head again. He unzips his jacket and shrugs it off, hanging it up on the single hook by the door. He walks along the narrow corridor towards the poor excuse of a living room. All it contains is a table, a chair, an arm chair and a second hand television which is currently perched on a rickety looking coffee table. He drops onto the armchair and he closes his eyes again and he sighs, allowing the encroaching exhaustion to sweep over him.

It’s so hard, almost too hard. He’s a vampire but he struggles not to be one. After decades of living the heights of a wondrous hedonistic bloody lifestyle, maintaining his sobriety is demanding. Preserving his new lifestyle is almost too much but he’s determined to do better this time. He tried once before, in the sixties but back then he had Josie to help him, to guide him and to love him. Now he has nobody, no real incentive. He’s constantly on his guard against temptation, he has to ignore perpetual, clawing hunger, he has to think about every single aspect of his life and right now he doesn’t trust himself completely. Maybe he left Carl’s guidance too soon, maybe he should’ve stuck around til the summer like Carl had wanted him to. Of course he’d been an arrogant bastard and insisted that he’d be fine. He isn’t, he _knows_ that he isn’t, not completely but he’ll be damned before he’ll go crawling back to Carl and admit any kind of defeat.

He doesn’t _want_ to fail at this, he doesn’t want to see or feel Herrick’s scorn, because he’s having a hard time understanding to begin with. Mitchell knows that he’ll shout his ‘I told you so’s’ the loudest. He’s just waiting for him to fall flat on his face and come back into the fold with his tail between his legs. His eyes pop open at this. For that reason alone he mustn’t fail. He needs to find the strength to continue on this mission from somewhere. He gets to his feet and stretches for a moment. He needs sleep; his mood is always at its worst when he’s tired. Maybe things will look clearer then. As he slowly trudges towards his bedroom, one thought stays in his head.

He didn’t kill anyone today.

* * *

 

Shannon goes into the cafeteria, a halfway decent cup of tea and something of the chocolate oeuvre uppermost in her mind. It’s her first day back and her feet haven’t touched the ground. Just as well really because being busy stops her from thinking about anything else, namely the weirdo from the locker room.

She sees him across the busy cafeteria. He’s alone at a table, a cup in front of him and he’s frowning down at an open newspaper, a look of utter concentration on his face. It looks intimidating.

Mitchell lifts and turns his head when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. His eyes widen when he sees Shannon standing by his table, carrying two cups.

“Anyone sitting here?” She indicates the vacant chair opposite him and dumbly he shakes his head, still surprised to see her standing there as large as life. He watches her slide into the chair and she pushes one of the cups towards him and he frowns at it.

“To say thank you. You helped me out back there the other night, I really appreciated it,” she informs him and he lifts his head slightly and looks at her again.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles and he glances away.

She regards him.  “No it wasn’t. I don’t know what drugs she was on but if you hadn’t shown up when you did then it would’ve been much much worse,” she answers in a soft voice. Mitchell looks at her, at the open expression on her face. She has golden brown eyes and a few light freckles dust the bridge of her nose. She smiles at him.

“How are you?” he asks, the question almost bursting out of him and her eyes widen slightly.

“I’m…okay I suppose, I ended up with three stitches in the back of my head and a headache for a couple of days but I’m fine,” she answers. He regards her. Her fiery coloured hair is pinned back out of the way and he can see a pale blue t-shirt peeking above the v shaped neckline of her scrub top. He can also see the fading yellow- green bruises marking the front of her throat like an obscene necklace.

“I’m glad…that you’re okay,” he tacks on at her look of surprise and she bites back a smile and lifts her cup and takes a sip of her tea. Mitchell follows suit. Her small act of kindness has touched him more than he’ll admit. He’s used to being treated as being part of the bottom rung of the hospital hierarchy, ignored or berated by those considered ‘above’ him.  “And thank you…for the tea,” he adds. Her eyes warm slightly and she inclines her head just the once. Mitchell watches her and then places his cup on the table.

“Did you talk to the police about what happened?” he asks in a quiet voice and he watches how she looks at him.

“Someone came to take my statement, I think his name was…Herrick or someone.” She watches how a tiny frown appears between his eyebrows. “Do you know him?”

His gaze bounces away from her face and he just shakes his head. “What did this girl look like? I remember you saying that it was a woman.”

Shannon sighs raggedly and curls her hands around her cup and her expression becomes far away.

“Maybe an inch taller than me, thin, very pale, doll like blue eyes, thick black hair. She was very pretty, she could’ve been a model but her perfume was…off.” She frowns as the thought occurs to her and she look at Mitchell again. He’s regarding her with breath-stealing intensity, still frowning and it does look intimidating. She swallows.

“Off?”

Shannon blinks and gives her head a little shake. “Umm…yeah it was… _unusual_. She looked barely eighteen years old and girls of that age, they’re influenced by what they see on TV, in magazines but she was wearing perfume that her granny might wear, it was sweet…flowery, like…violets or something.”

Mitchell straightens in his seat as a memory flashes through him and his eyes go wide.

“What’s the matter?”

 His attention flicks back to Shannon. He blinks and then focuses on her. “What?”

“Just the expression on your face, it was like you knew who I was talking about?” She sits back slightly and regards him warily “You don’t, do you?”

“No. Of course not,” he replies. All of a sudden his brain is busy, going back to an era when he was at his absolute worst, when he was set upon making a name, a reputation for himself and he had, oh _how_ he had. He swallows. No, it can’t be, as far as he knows, she’s dead though he didn’t stick around to witness it for himself.

“It was her eyes that stick in my mind the most.” He pays attention to her voice as she begins to speak again.

“What about them?” He watches as she looks down at her cup, her cheeks flushing a faint pink colour.

“I never even told the policeman…but her eyes were… _weird_ …they were all black and… _shiny_. I’ve seen what drugs can do to a person, you name it and I’ve seen it but that…I’ve never seen that before,” she admits and she glances up at him and she sees his thoughtful expression. “You think I was hallucinating it don’t you? Because that’s what I think it was, she almost choked me to death and I think what I saw was just a figment of my imagination. I feel daft talking about it out loud,” she confides with an embarrassed shrug. He doesn’t reply, instead he just watches her.

“And now you think I’m mad,” she tacks on and lifts her cup and she takes a drink, her eyes everywhere but on him. He takes a slow breath and he counts to three.

“No, I don’t think you’re mad. Like you say, you’ve seen a lot of things,” he replies and her smile in response is soft, almost grateful.

“It feels odd just saying it out loud though,” she admits. She watches him lift his cup again.

“How are you finding the job?” she asks him and she sees the spark of surprise in his eyes. “You’re new, I notice stuff like that,” she tells him with a small shrug. He swallows his mouthful of tea carefully.

“I’m surprised, aren’t porters considered the bottom feeders of the hospital social scale?” he enquires mildly and she bites back a smile.

“Depends on who you talk to.”

“Well, right now I’m talking to you,” he reminds her and she sees a glint of humour in his eyes.

“Personally speaking, without porters, we would gradually grind to a halt. I’ll never admit this to anyone else but without you lot we wouldn’t get anything or anyone anywhere and I think we’d drown in a lake of other people’s variety of bodily functions. Sorry,” she apologises as he grimaces.

“Nah, it’s okay, you’re right, in our own way we keep things going,” he agrees with a casual shrug.

“Some of us do appreciate it.”

He looks at her and there’s a wry glint in his eyes. “I wish the doctors did sometimes, are they all complete arseholes or I have I just been extremely unlucky?” His voice lowers confidentially and Shannon chuckles.

“I don’t know, it depends on who you’ve had the misfortune to run into but most of them are ego maniacs with a serious God complex,” she answers on a whisper. She watches a smile bloom across Mitchell’s face which he quickly hides.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

He watches as she drains her cup and at the same time she glances at her watch. Her eyes widen very slightly.

“And on that note, I must go. Thank you again Mitchell.” She gets to her feet and with a little wave she’s striding through the cafeteria and out again.

He watches her every step.

* * *

 

Her shift is finally over. She’s shattered and she prefers the idea of a hot meal and a hot bath over a couple of pints in the nearby pub with a few of her colleagues. They all have their different methods of unwinding after a rough day, hers don’t involve alcohol. She pauses at the entrance and stares out across the car park. A cold wind ruffles her hair and she feels it chase down her spine. She shivers and frowns slightly. She doesn’t think of herself as particularly nervous but since the attack in the locker room last week, she’s beginning to think twice. She turns her head and sees Abby with the rest of the crowd who are planning to go to the pub and she contemplates joining them after all.

“Shannon?” She turns her head when she hears Mitchell’s voice and he’s heading towards her, zipping up his jacket and he’s frowning.

“Is everything alright?” he enquires and he pauses beside her.  She looks up at his face and then briefly at Abby and her friends. He follows her gaze.

“Oh…Night then.” He goes to walk past but at the last minute she reaches out and grabs his upper arm. He looks down at it and then at her face.

“Want to grab something to eat? A pizza or something?” she asks. She sees the shock cross his face. She lets go of his arm and begins to shake her head. “It doesn’t matter, it was just a suggestion, forget I said anything, you’re probably busy anyway” she smiles at him and starts to turn towards Abby.

“Actually I’m not…busy that is. Okay, pizza,” he agrees and she looks back at him. She smiles once more and takes a step towards him.

“Great. I know this excellent place not far from here,” she tells him and together they leave the hospital building.

“I have a car…” he begins and she flashes another smile at him.

“Okay.” She looks up as it begins to rain and she grimaces as the first rain drops spatter against her skin. “Good timing,” she adds on as it gets heavier and she follows him across the car park.

* * *

 

She looks at the car he stops beside, it’s a Volvo, an old style car, it looks a little at odds next to the more modern cars parked around them.

“You like classic cars,” she comments as he unlocks his side. He looks down at the vehicle for a moment and then a small smile crosses his face before it disappears.

“Something like that,” he replies and he gets in. She waits as he leans across and unlocks her side and she opens it and climbs in.

She glances at him as she fastens her seatbelt. Everything about the interior screams retro. It’s also surprisingly tidy. From past experience, a few cars she’s had a lift in have been glorified road skips on wheels but this one is much tidier. She can smell leather and cigarette smoke and something else that she’s not familiar with. He starts the car and the engine roars to life.

“Are you from round here?” he asks as he joins the queue of cars exiting the hospital grounds.

She glances at him. “London,” she replies and he looks back at her.

“So what are you doing in Bristol?”

“A change of scenery, why does anyone ever leave their home town?” She turns her head and looks at the rain splattering against the windscreen, she watches the wipers swish across the glass.

“I suppose for new opportunities but isn’t the Smoke considered the centre of the universe here?”

She looks at him once more. “Maybe for those who don’t actually have to live there, for those of us that do, well maybe somewhere…smaller is what we need. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well you’re not obviously local.” She grins and he smiles very faintly.

“How did you guess?” he teases and she chuckles. He watches her reaction and he feels the familiarity, the ease of it. Once upon a time teasing a woman to laughter was as easy as breathing to him. Judging by her smile, it still is.

“Oh I don’t know, just an idea,” she answers lightly and his smile widens. He looks away from her face as the car crawls a few more feet forward.

“So why?” she presses and he looks at her once more.

 He shrugs. “Job opportunities, I had the prospect of bettering myself and I took it, didn’t look back.”

“Did it work out for you?” She watches his expression alter very slightly as what looks almost like sadness flashes across his face.

“Depends on who you ask, it did change my life in ways that I never could imagine.”

“Do you regret it?” The car crawls to the front of the queue and Mitchell turns his head, concentrating on the traffic in front of him.

“Sometimes,” he mutters. He sees a gap in the traffic and pulls out, halting any further conversation on the subject. Shannon regards him curiously. He glances back at her and his eyes still on her face. “What?”

She just shakes her head.  She then points ahead.

“Nothing. Pizza restaurant is further along this road, Silvio’s,” she informs him.

“Okay.”

* * *

 

It’s late when he pulls up outside of the house. It stopped raining sometime during the evening and the streets gleam wetly beneath the orange sodium lighting. Mitchell watches as Shannon unhooks her seatbelt and gathers her bag closer to her. She looks at him and she smiles.

“Tonight was fun Mitchell,” she tells him and her smile is shy.

“It was,” he agrees. It had been. They’d split a large pizza, shared a couple of beers and they had talked about all kinds of things. She’d been good company though the throb of her pulse beat had been a distinct distraction. Apart from that it had all been incredibly… _normal_.

“Thanks for the lift, you didn’t have to but I appreciate it.” He just nods. Her gaze rests on his face and then darts nervously away.

“I’ll see you at work, yeah?” he suggests and she nods rapidly.

“I’d better get going.”

Mitchell just nods and watches as she gets out. He waits as she hurries along the path and lets herself into her house. Once he knows she’s inside, he pulls away.

* * *

 

He parks the car and gets out. He locks the door and for a moment he pauses and lifts his face to the navy blue sky. The air smells cleaner, fresher after the recent rain and he fills his lungs. Maybe tonight he’ll sleep better. He’s enjoyed spending time with Shannon; it had been fun spending time with someone human and not spend the evening figuring out ways to get her alone so that he can feed. Carl has said that one day he’ll be able to do that without thinking.

“She’s a pretty thing that redhead.”

Mitchell flinches when he hears Herrick’s voice. Slowly he turns and sees him standing beside the passenger door.

“What do you want?” Mitchell demands in a low voice and Herrick widens his eyes.

“What? No hug of welcome? I’m hurt,” he answers.

“I’m not in the mood for your bullshit tonight,” he tells him and watches him walk around the front of the car and towards him.

“No, you were in the mood for that pretty little redhead in that pizza restaurant. I’m surprised you let her go, she was _lovely._ ” His words trail away at the vehement expression on Mitchell’s face. He sighs melodramatically.

“Fine, have it your way, if you’re still determined to be human and ignore your true calling who am I to stand in your noble way?” He leans up against the driver’s door and he folds his arms. “But imagine my surprise when she told me last week that a porter by the name of _Mitchell_ came to her aid last week. Are you planning to add knight in shining armour to your resume now soldier? Do you think it’ll really go with the whole vampire, mass killer part? Somehow I don’t think she’d quite understand that bit.”

He straightens up.

“Your lovely friend told me that her attacker possessed surprising strength, almost lifted her clean off her feet without much effort, I _wonder_ how she could’ve managed that?” He lifts a speculative eyebrow

“She was probably an addict looking for a fix,” Mitchell hedges.

“Oh I don’t doubt it but for a fix of what? Let’s not beat around the bush here Mitchell, we both know what she was and that she was hungry. From your friend’s description she doesn’t sound familiar and I happen to know just about every vampire in this area. Any ideas?” As he expects, Mitchell shakes his head.

“I stay out of all of that now Herrick,” he tells him in a low voice. Herrick regards him and sighs loudly.

“So you say but somehow it always finds you. You can’t escape from it, no matter how hard you try.”

“I’m clean; I’m not getting involved again. I don’t know who she was.”

“Mitchell…you know sobriety isn’t your strong point. We’ve done this merry little dance once before and we both remember what a rip-roaring success that was. Why don’t you come back to the fold? We could do with you, with your…experience. All of this, this _decency_ just isn’t you is it? It grates against your soul.” He watches him shake his head and tightly fold his arms. His shoulders come up and he recognises it for the defensive mechanism that it is.

“Not happening. I mean it this time.” He frowns at him.

Herrick sighs noisily. “You said that the last time too Mitchell. Never mind, I’m a patient man; I’ve found out that I have to be where you’re concerned.”

“I’ll be seeing you soldier,” he tells him quietly. Mitchell doesn’t move as he watches him walk away and melt into the shadows once more.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More players begin to join the game....

**Chapter Three:**

“So he’s definitely back in Bristol?” Eleanor Brennan’s eyes are diamond hard as she regards him. Jimmy stands in front of her desk and he nods rapidly, nervously.

“I saw him for myself, he’s a hospital porter.”

“So he _is_ there. I’d heard conflicting reports, Edmund thought he was still in Vienna with Carl but Francesca was insistent that she saw him at St. Mary’s with a mop and bucket and wearing blue scrubs.” Her upper lip curls derisively. She sits back in her seat and she glances up at Jimmy again. “Thank you. Where’s Jessica? I think I need to have a word with her,” she sighs and shakes her head slightly, looking down at the paperwork that needs her attention.

“She’s in her room I think,” Jimmy replies and Eleanor looks up and she raises a questioning eyebrow.

“You _think_?” she demands, more than a little acid in her tone. Jimmy glances away nervously.

“Well she was about fifteen minutes ago, you know what she’s like Miss Brennan, takes off when the mood suits her,” he replies and Eleanor sighs. Yes, she knows exactly what she’s like. She’s mercurial in an entirely different way to Mitchell. She has the attention span of a gnat, is constantly distracted, constantly seeks new, more exciting thrills and she takes far greater risks than she’s comfortable with her taking. She’s noticed this alarming habit develop within her over the past couple of months. Oh she’s committed to the cause at hand but she hasn’t failed to notice the tiny frown that mars the perfect skin between those beautiful blue eyes of hers. She’s forgiven the occasional outbursts of insolence but she’s starting to become more openly defiant and she’s quite frankly starting to worry her. Jessica is headstrong, Lily was also headstrong but not to this extent this quickly.

“I’ll go and see her. Thank you Jimmy.” She watches the vampire leave her study and she sighs and folds her arms.

She pauses outside of Jessie’s bedroom door and she pauses as she lifts her hand to knock. She wonders what frame of mind she’ll be in. She takes a quiet breath and gently taps. She waits and then opens the door.

She’s sitting in front of her dressing table and she turns to look at Eleanor. There’s no smile, no spark of curiosity or interest. Instead she turns her head back and looks at the mirror. There’s no reflection to greet her. Eleanor slowly enters the room and she goes to sit down on the narrow single bed. Jessie turns her head and looks at her again.

“Jessica,” Eleanor murmurs.

“Eleanor,” she replies equally sombrely.

“The hospital the other evening Jessica, were you planning on telling me what happened?” she enquires in a cool voice and the younger vampire frowns.

“Jimmy is such a tell-tale,” she accuses and then she sighs and shrugs nonchalantly.

“I was interrupted, nothing happened, I didn’t kill the nurse.”

“What do you think would have happened if you’d been caught? You took a very big risk.”

“I was hungry, I was passing, I heard her heartbeat, I thought why not?” She shrugs once more and Eleanor swallows down the irritation.

“Do you know who it was who interrupted you?” she asks in a smooth voice. She sees Jessie frown.

“No. Who was it?”

“It was John Mitchell Jessica. You almost blew our whole mission because you were hungry, it could’ve waited until a more suitable moment.”

Jessie’s eyes narrow as Eleanor’s tone hardens. She pouts instead.

“Jimmy was outside.”

“And he couldn’t stop him, you know what Mitchell is like and if he’d seen you, got a better look at you than last Christmas then it would’ve been an utter disaster.”

“But he didn’t, I made sure of that, I told you it was just a glimpse back then.”

“What were you doing at the hospital in the first place?”

“I heard you talking about it with Francesca and I wanted to see if he was there, I wanted to mess with his head some more, try and make him a little bit crazy.” A ghost of a smile flits across her pretty face. Eleanor sighs and she frowns in consternation.

“You will do as I say Jessica, you will follow my instructions and you have to stay away from Mitchell for now. His reputation, such as it is, is legendary and honestly acquired. All of those stories that you’ve heard about him, they’re all true,” Eleanor warns her.

“He doesn’t know that I exist.”

“Nevertheless he’s not stupid; I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s suspicious so now you need to take a big step back.”

“But I was having a good time!”

“Jessica, leave him alone, that’s an order.”

“I thought you wanted him dead, so why are you defending him? You hate him.”

It’s times such as this one that Eleanor is reminded of her protégé’s youth. She’s three quarters of a century in the making but emotionally she’s very much a rebellious, young innocent eighteen year old child. She had such plans for her human life such as it was. Eleanor promised to show her things she could never imagine, never comprehend and she believes that she has done but even now the younger girl’s restlessness is never far from the surface. She sighs quietly, irritably and she frowns at her again.

“And I do but it takes _time_ , I need to choose my moment carefully. You blundering into where he works does not help.” She sharpens her voice and she narrows her eyes and Jessie looks away, her expression turning predictably sullen.

“Okay. Point made,” she concedes.

Eleanor regards her for a moment and then she leans forwards and covers one pale hand with her own.

“It will be worth it I promise you,” she quietly vows.

* * *

 

He’s late for work. He hurries towards his car and unlocks it and gets in, a slice of toast in one hand. He dumps his jacket on the passenger seat and it’s then that he sees it in the foot well. He reaches across and down and picks it up. It’s a small address book. With a frown he opens it and flips quickly through it, seeing Shannon’s name at the front.  Her full name is Shannon Parker. He sighs and drops it on top of his jacket before starting up the engine.

He keeps his eyes open for her as he begins his shift. She told him last night that she was working an early shift this week but he doesn’t see her. His morning is spent ferrying patients to and from their appointments, to departments, to their taxis. He’s doesn’t offer much in the way of conversation, some patients don’t like the over familiar chatter of some of the other porters and at the moment he’s not the type to share confidences of his own. He’s still very much treading water and to try and get involved with anyone else, even briefly feels like too much at the moment. He’s not surly, he’s not rude, he will talk if spoken to but he doesn’t take the first step. He keeps his eyes open for Shannon as he goes about the hospital.

* * *

 

He eventually finds his way into Accident and Emergency. It’s still busy but not as manic as it can get in the evening or at weekends. He sees her across the room and she’s busy assisting in a cubicle. He pauses and watches her for a moment. She’s efficient, professional and focused. He straightens when she seems to pause and she turns her head and looks in his direction. He watches how her eyes widen briefly in recognition and a smile flits around the edges of her mouth. He heads towards her.

“Hey,” he greets quietly, making sure to stay on the periphery, out of their way. She glances at him.

“Mitchell.”

“Umm… I have something of yours,” he tells her and he sees how she frowns in puzzlement.

“Oh do you? And what could that be?” Her tone is cool and it momentarily confuses him.

“Your address book, it must’ve dropped out of your bag last night, you wouldn’t have seen it in the dark and I only saw it this morning.” He glances at the other staff present around the bed. They don’t seem to be listening to their quiet conversation but he’s not entirely sure. There’s a swell of pulse beats, of hearts pounding in chests, of blood racing through veins and it’s so sudden, so unexpected that he almost staggers beneath the weight, the crush of it. He inhales sharply and turns his attention towards the occupant on the trolley. There is blood, a lot of it, the scent of it tantalises and teases his senses and he feels the darker, more familiar side of him begin to surge forward, threaten to punch through his brutally constructed walls. It almost succeeds. He closes his eyes for a moment to try and hide the encroaching blackness and to force it back down again. He’s struggling and he needs to get out of here before he loses it completely.

“Mitchell? Are you okay?” Shannon enquires sharply and he snaps to and looks at her.  He nods and then just as quickly he looks away again.

“I have your address book in my locker. Let me know when your break is and I’ll get it for you.” His voice is clipped and he doesn’t quite meet her eyes. He turns and leaves, staggering through the double doors and out into the busy corridor. He manages to stumble out of the way as he hears someone yell for him to move as the doors burst open behind him once more. He turns his head and watches the trolley as its being raced along the corridor, towards theatre. It probably holds some poor bastard whose only goal that morning was to get to work on time. He sighs and leans against a wall and waits for the pounding in his head to cease. He lowers his head and pulls his fingers through unkempt hair and he screws his eyes tightly closed.

_I can do this. I can do this._   He recites it over and over in his mind as he squashes the emerging panic firmly down. He pushes the monster down but it’s such a struggle. He needs to get out of here, get some air or something.

“Mitchell?”

He flinches when he hears Shannon’s concerned tone. He slowly lifts his head and looks at her. He sees the concern in her eyes.

“You okay? You went as white as a sheet before.”

He nods once more and tries to smile. “I’m fine.”

She slowly approaches him, her head tilted slightly to one side.

“You don’t like the sight of blood do you? It affects people in different ways I must admit, we have a nurse who goes distinctly green around the gills when a nasty RTA shows up in our department and she’s been here for two years now, makes you wonder why she chose the profession.” She moves closer to him.  She reaches out and rubs his arm, just below the shoulder. It’s natural to her, comforting and he stares at her in surprise. He lets out a shaky breath. She thinks he doesn’t like the sight of blood? She couldn’t be any further from the truth. She smiles slowly, sympathetically.

“Listen, I have time for a quick cup of tea, want one?” she invites and he finds himself nodding. She continues to smile at him before looking quickly around.

“Then let’s get out of here before we’re spotted and put to work,” she whispers.

“You can pick up your address book while you’re at it.” She glances at him as they begin to walk.

“I’ll meet you after my shift ends at five, you can give it to me then, is that okay?” Mitchell nods.

“Sure, that’s fine,” he agrees and walks with her along the corridor.

* * *

 

As always, the cafeteria is busy. Mitchell’s eyes scan the faces before seeing a vacant table by the window.

“Over there,” he tells Shannon and she frowns at him “I can get the tea,” he informs her quietly and shakes his head when she hunts for some cash.

“My shout, grab the table before someone else does.” He pretends that he doesn’t hear her sigh of irritation and instead joins the queue and watches her weave her way through the tables to the empty one.

He places the cup in front of her in and slides into the seat opposite.

“Been busy?” he asks her as he lifts the cup to take a sip. She shrugs.

“No busier than usual, how about you?”

“Busier than normal, this is the first opportunity I’ve had for a break all morning,” he confesses and he watches her. The bruises around her neck are fading and his gaze lingers on them for a moment.

“Ah they like to crack the whip,” she comments with a slight smile and copies him with the tea. He watches her for another moment, realises that he’s staring and looks down at his cup instead.

“They do,” he agrees with a little nod. He lifts his head again and lets his eyes scan the faces of the people in the cafeteria. It’s usually quite easy to sort out the staff from the patients and their relatives. His eyes slide over a man who is seated alone. He has reddish brown hair and wide blue eyes. He has a cup in front of him but he’s ignoring it and taking in his surroundings pretty much as Mitchell is doing. He watches as his head turns slowly in his direction and the two men look at each other for what feels like a long time and Mitchell feels a frisson of something shiver down his spine. The man stares openly at him and it sets Mitchell’s nerves on edge.

“Mitchell…” He snaps back and looks at Shannon. Her eyes are slightly widened and he realises that she’s been talking and he hasn’t been paying any attention to her. He swallows.

“I’m…sorry…” he stutters and of their own volition, his eyes seek out where the man who had been staring at him had been sitting. The table is empty and he blinks in surprise. He turns his head sharply, scanning the other faces but he’s not there, he’s gone.

“Mitchell?” Shannon asks again and he looks back at her.

“S…Sorry…I’m sorry, you were saying?” he apologises.

She smiles softly.

“Doesn’t matter, it wasn’t important.” She takes a sip of her tea and he finds himself watching her once more. He can’t help it, in his own way he finds her interesting. Her skin is creamy pale and once more he notices the freckles dusted along the bridge of her nose. Her hair is a dark red, almost fiery but not quite and it’s pinned back. He likes her eyes; he likes the brownish gold colour of them. They look warm.

“No…tell me.”

“I was just asking about the blood that’s all,” she asks and he feels shock prickle through him.

“The blood…what…” His brain momentarily freezes and he stutters over his words.

“Oh don’t be ashamed, you’d be surprised what the sight of blood does to a person, I’ve had six feet plus tall rugby players pass out at the sight of a needle but the tiniest of patients barely bat an eyelid, it’s all down to personal experiences, what triggered it. What triggered yours, do you remember?” Mitchell sighs quietly and shakily.

_A muddy battlefield in France somewhere just over eighty years ago…_ Christ, how would she react to that little nugget of information?  His brain struggles for purchase.

“I…I suppose I’ve always…been like…that.” He shrugs awkwardly and her smile is one of understanding and sympathy.

“It’s okay, it can be our little secret,” she tells him and his answering smile feels stiff and uncomfortable.

“Thanks,” he answers quietly.  He sees her check the time.

“Uh-oh, tea break over.” She turns her head and she sighs. Mitchell follows her look and he recognises the nurse from the locker room the other week. She’s standing just inside the entrance and she’s frowning at them both. No, more to the point, she’s frowning at _him_.

“Definitely over,” Shannon mutters. She casts Mitchell a rueful look as she drains the last of her tea. He watches as she gets to her feet and she smiles at him.

“Thanks for the tea Mitchell, see you at five?” He nods just the once and watches her make her way toward her friend. He sighs again and picks up his cup. He takes an automatic sip but doesn’t really taste it. In the meantime his gaze sweeps over the people still in the cafeteria but he doesn’t see his spectator from earlier. He shakes his head very slightly. Sobriety is making him jumpy and paranoid; he sees enemies in every face he looks at these days.

Shannon follows Abby out into the corridor.

“Who’s that you were sitting with?” she asks her as they begin to head back to A and E.

“Mitchell.”

Abby frowns at her. “Why does he look familiar?”

“Maybe because he was the guy who saved me from that lunatic from the locker room last week?” Shannon reminds her and watches how her eyes widen as she makes the connection.

“Oh. What are you doing sitting with him? Isn’t he a porter here or something?” Her derision irritates Shannon.

“Because he’s a nice guy? Jesus Abby no wonder you can’t get a boyfriend if you judge every single bloke on what they do for a living or how much they earn,” she snips at her and she sees the pout begin to form. She refuses to apologise because it’s true, Abby judges everyone by what they look like, what they drive, where they live. She should learn to scratch beneath the surface once in a while, she might be pleasantly surprised.

“There’s no need to get pissy with me about it,” Abby huffs out and Shannon rolls her eyes.

“I like him Abby and I’d appreciate it if you keep your judgemental attitude to yourself in future,” she informs her and she sees the frown darken.

“Fair enough but I’m warning you, he gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“For Christ’s sake, you barely know him; in fact you’ve spoken to him what… once?”

“He looks like he could use a good wash,” Abby mutters and Shannon can’t help herself, she chuckles.

“No he doesn’t,” she replies for the hell of it and Abby casts her a look as if to say _really?_ “He’s shy okay?” Shannon tags on as work looms ahead of them.

“If you say so.”

“Shut up Abby. So he’s a porter, so fucking what? He’s not like most of the blokes around here, trying to score points, trying to get into your pants. He seems like a half decent bloke, keeping his head down and getting on with his job.”

“Or acting like a wannabe superhero _to_ get into your pants,” Abby tacks on and Shannon rolls her eyes and just shakes her head.

“You’re so cynical,” she teases her and its Abby’s turn to roll her eyes.

“And you’re so gullible. I don’t trust him, that’s all.”

“You don’t trust anyone Abby so no big surprise there,” Shannon announces and pushes her way back into the chaos that is A and E.

* * *

 

She’s glad when it’s knocking off time. She’s exhausted and every muscle aches, every ligament and joint is protesting and her feet are so sore. She walks slowly to the locker room and pauses momentarily by the door. She just stares at it and in her mind’s eye she can see the girl with the inexplicably black eyes leering down at her, those freaky teeth of hers on display. Nerves briefly flutter in her stomach and she swallows against a suddenly dry mouth. She then takes a deep breath and pushes the door open.

The locker room is half full of nurses and other female staff in the process of changing for the trip home or about to begin their shift. Shannon smiles at one or two before heading to her own locker.

She changes into her street clothes, says her goodnights and heads out and stops short when she sees Mitchell standing by the door, leaning against the wall, his arms folded tightly around his body, his head bent, staring at the floor. He lifts his head and looks at her and his smile is fleeting. It’s then that she remembers about the address book.

“Hey, I thought I was going to meet you outside your locker room?” she greets as she pulls the straps of her bag further up her shoulder.

“Saw you go into yours and thought I’d wait,” he answers and together they fall into step as they trudge that familiar route out of the hospital.

Once outside, the dark cool breeze washes over them both and Shannon barely suppresses a shiver. Mitchell looks at her and he frowns.

“You okay, want a lift home?” he offers and she looks back at him and she’s tempted to accept but instead she shakes her head.

“I’d better not,” she tells him.

“Why not?” she smiles briefly at him.

“Because I could quite easily take advantage of your generosity and I don’t want to take you out of your way,” she tells him.

“I don’t mind.”

She touches his arm, stroking it from shoulder to elbow.

“I know and I appreciate it but not today, yeah?”

Mitchell just shrugs. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” he replies and he reaches inside his jacket and takes out her book. “Here.”

She takes it from him and she smiles her thanks.

“See you around Mitchell.” She lifts the book “and thanks for looking after this.”

“No problem,” he replies and watches her walk away.

* * *

 

Jessie stays hidden in the shadows and watches the exchange silently. He’s so different from what she remembers. She frowns as she struggles to remember that brief period of time when they first met. She’d been working in a tea shop and he’d come in and charmed her with his looks and his brand of effortless charisma. He’d looked like one of those movie stars that she used to idolise. He made her feel overwhelmed and flustered and definitely very feminine but it had all been for a reason. There had been no affection there, he’d hid his true intentions very well and she’d been utterly clueless until it had been far too late. Now watching him she can see that he’s clumsy, awkward around people in general. He’s being so _noble_ , so _heroic_ but she can see that he’s finding his new found knight in shining armour routine difficult to maintain. She can see that he likes the nurse with the red hair and it’s going to be so much fun to drag him down again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitchell and Shannon begin to get a little bit closer. Band names in this chapter are completely made up.

**Chapter Four:**

He gasps as he comes to. His eyes are wide and panic stricken as he stares up at the dark shadowy ceiling. He blinks and waits as his surroundings, his reality rush in at him. Then he turns his head and looks at the illuminated digits of his alarm clock. It’s barely five. He needs to get up soon. He rolls onto his side and hits the off button and stares at it for a moment.

He never used to be bothered by nightmares. His slumber used to be deep, dark and dreamless but not so much now. Now they happen in terrifying detail, reminding him of the past, of how he used to be, of what he used to love. They’re twisted, distorted; he’s being chased through narrow dark corridors, unseen threats hidden behind anonymous doors. He’s hiding from faces from his past, all demanding revenge and retribution and a girl with Jessie’s face flies at him with a sharp piece of wood aimed at his withered heart. He’s woken up expecting to feel its pain as it enters his chest. Instead he feels nothing except an all pervading sense of fear

He sits up and kicks back the duvet and moves to sit on the side of his bed. He wipes his face and sweat coats his fingertips. He lifts his head and looks towards the window. He can see the early pre-dawn light peek through the gap between the curtains. He gets up and walks towards it and he opens them. The street below is half empty, a milk float trundles almost soundlessly by and he watches the faintly blurry figure of the milkman make his deliveries. In a few of the houses he can see lights already on and like him, their days have already begun. He sighs quietly and heads for the bathroom.

* * *

 

It’s still very early as he parks his car and locks it. He pockets the keys and turns. Early morning sunshine peeks shyly from behind fluffy white clouds and it promises to be a beautiful spring day. He knows that summer isn’t very far away. He glances up at the sky and he grimaces. He’s been here for a few weeks now and he’s beginning to recognise faces, to feel a little bit more comfortable in his surroundings, in his own skin. He knows one or two of the other porters now and feels calm enough to engage in a little bit of easy going banter with them but he’s still not ready to be sociable yet.

He hasn’t seen Herrick for a while now and on the one hand that pleases him but on the other it unsettles him. He’s always around somewhere like a spider in a web waiting to trap his unsuspecting victim. He’s used to him being somewhere nearby, watching and controlling, in charge and this seemingly total withdrawal just makes him all the more uneasy. He knows Herrick; he knows that despite everything, he won’t be far away.

* * *

 

Shannon is busy but she sees him in the department with his mop and bucket in attendance quietly and diligently working. She’s seen him around several times in the hospital since he returned her address book but they’ve barely had time to say hello anymore. It’s been getting to the point that she looks for him when she isn’t rushed off her feet and the dark almost distrustful expression in those eyes of his sets off something deep inside of her. Dear God, she thought she was too old to harbour a crush but it would seem that she’s not. Wouldn’t Abby have a field day with that little nugget of information? A comment about a knight in shining armour comes to mind and she pushes it down.

She manages to escape at lunchtime and she joins the queue for food. As always, the cafeteria is busy and as she pays for her lunch, she turns her head and surveys the dozens of occupied and busy tables and she sighs quietly. Her feet are killing her and she badly needs to sit down.

She spies Mitchell sitting alone. He’s hunched over a magazine of some description, his chin resting on his fist, a half-eaten sandwich and a cup by his elbow. She takes a deep breath and walks over to his table.

“Hey, mind some company?” She keeps her voice quiet but friendly and he looks up with wide, almost startled eyes. He straightens and pulls his magazine closer to him and indicates the empty chair opposite him.

“No, of course not,” he murmurs and he watches as she places her tray down and then lowers herself down on the chair opposite. He hears her quiet sigh of relief and a slight smile curves the corner of his mouth.

“Busy morning?” he enquires and she smiles and rolls her eyes.

“Something like that and the day is only halfway through. How are you Mitchell? It seems like it’s been ages since we’ve managed to say more than hello to each other.”

“I’m okay, what about you?” He picks up his cup and takes a sip of his drink.

“Same. Busy, _knackered_. I need a holiday or a night out or something,” she replies as she lifts her plate off the wooden tray and pushes it to one side.

“Don’t we all?” Mitchell agrees and she flashes a quick smile at him as she picks up her fork and begins to eat. He watches her for a moment before he returns his attention to his magazine.

* * *

 

Neither speaks and she’s comfortable with that. It gives her the opportunity to observe him with some degree of stealth. He does have the kind of face that some, maybe a few women would find attractive. His hair is collar-length, pulled away from his face, dark and with the kind of curls that most women would kill for. He has reasonably wide shoulders that fill the blue scrub top that he’s wearing very well and she sees equally dark hair dusting his forearms and also peeking out from beneath the white long sleeved top that he wears beneath the scrub top. Her eyes lift to his face to see him watching her and she feels a fierce blush warm her cheeks and she quickly looks away, picking up her drink and taking a sip.

Mitchell can barely bite back the smile that suddenly threatens to bloom across his face. Was Shannon checking him out? He glances down at the top that he’s wearing and then he looks back at her. Her cheeks are pink and she can’t quite meet his eyes. Her attention goes to his magazine and she reaches for it, turning it so she can see the article he’s been reading. He watches her eyes widen.

“The Astronauts…I loved their last album,” she breathes and he looks down at the page.

“Me too, God I didn’t think anyone had heard of them never mind listened to their music,” he replies, more than a little bit surprised. He looks at her and she’s smiling again, the blush has gone and she’s comfortable once more. Her eyes almost seem to sparkle.

“I like that about them. They’re like a perfect secret.”

“So you’re more of a rock chick then?” She glances up at him and she grins and shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly.

“I like my music loud I admit,” she replies a little shyly. She looks back down at the article again.

“According to this they’re touring, playing the Union Bar on Friday night.” She looks back up at him and she takes a deep breath before plunging on “If you’re interested I could check and see if there are any tickets left and if there are we could see them together?” She keeps the tone cool, casual and she waits. Mitchell blinks and he looks down at the page again, the chance to see The Astronauts with Shannon?  He looks back at her.

“Yeah, that would be cool,” he answers, adopting the same tone as she has even though his mouth has gone traitorously dry.

“It should be a good night and I’m off this weekend so even better.” The grin she flashes at him is infectious and he smiles back.

“We could go for a drink beforehand…if you like?” he suggests and he waits for her to turn him down, to make her excuses but he watches her smile, it’s like the sun coming out to him.

“That would be nice Mitchell, thanks. I’ll enquire about the tickets after work and let you know tomorrow?”

 He nods. “That would be great.”

 She smiles at him once more and then pushes his magazine back to him.

“I’ll look for you and let you know either way,” she tells him and Mitchell takes a breath.

“Even if they’re sold out…still want to go for that drink?” He watches her and waits. She smiles.

“Yeah, I still want to,” she confirms in a soft voice. His smile widens.

“Cool,” he responds.

* * *

 

They’ve agreed to meet inside the Kings Arms pub at six thirty on Friday. Shannon has just enough time to get home, grab a quick meal, jump in the shower and put on some make up if she wants to be on time.

Her heart is leaping in her breast as she enters the pub. It’s reasonably busy; a lot of the clientele are still dressed in their work clothes celebrating the end of the week with a few drinks. Cigarette smoke drifts lazily in the air as she looks for him. She doesn’t see him and initially disappointment swells inside of her. As she makes her way to the bar she hopes that he hasn’t changed his mind about having a drink with her.

“Shannon.” She spins around when she hears his slightly breathless voice and she smiles when she sees him.

“Mitchell,” she replies warmly. He draws in a deep breath and she wonders whether he’s been running. Either way, he looks handsome in that dishevelled, unshaven way of his.

“Sorry I’m late, have you been waiting long?”

“I just got here so don’t worry.” He touches her shoulder as he brushes past her and makes his way to the bar. As he gets there he pauses and looks at her.

“What will you have?” he asks.

“A pint of lager,” she answers and watches as he looks at the barman, seems to pause and then he looks at her again as if her request has just registered with him.

“A pint, you’re sure?” She slowly nods. She doesn’t think it such an odd request but he obviously does.

“Yeah, a pint,” she clarifies. His eyes hold hers for a second longer before he looks back at the barman and orders two pints of lager.

They find a small table that’s away from immediate view and she slides onto the chair opposite him. She shrugs off her jacket and then reaches for her drink. She takes a long sip and feels it slide blissfully down her throat. She replaces the glass and looks at him again to find him watching her.

“You obviously needed that,” Mitchell comments and she smiles slightly.

“Busy day at the office,” she confides and he nods.

“But you have the weekend free, what do you plan to do?”

“What I usually do, sleep and do washing, I’m the height of sophistication and mystery,” she chuckles and he grins.

“What about you?” she asks him and his eyes widen marginally.

“Excuse me?”

“Weekend plans…what do you do when you’re not at work?” She watches him sigh.

“The same as you mostly, regular things, nothing exciting.”

_No charming the pants, sometimes literally, off a pretty girl and draining her dry, no lyco pickups, no arguing with Herrick about Seth, no having to deal with Seth and his annoying personality._

Come to think of it, his new life might not be as exciting as it used to be any more but it’s his.

* * *

 

He excuses himself and disappears off to the men’s toilets. It seems to be going okay, they’re chatting about neutral stuff, the odd bit of work related gossip and the band that they’re going to see tonight. Shannon doesn’t seem to be bored with him and that has to be a big plus. He’d been nervous about tonight, that he would mess it up in some way and everything would come tumbling down.

“Just saw your bird in the bar tonight Mitchell… _very_ nice.” Mitchell freezes and then quietly curses when he hears Seth’s loud voice almost bounce off the walls of the small bathroom.  He finishes what he’s doing and goes to wash his hands. He doesn’t look at him nor acknowledge his presence.

“She your work colleague Mitchell because she’s a bit of alright she is,” he continues. Mitchell swallows, dries his hands on a paper towel and tosses it in the bin.  Seth is standing beside the exit. They are the only occupants in that small room. Mitchell pauses and he looks at him.

“Are you going to get out of my way?” he asks in a low voice.  Seth grins at him.

“Oh so you’re talking to me now are you? What’s the matter Mitchell, you frightened I might upset your bird? Does she know what you are?” He pushes his face up close to his and Mitchell gets a blast of beery breath.

“What do you want Seth?” he asks tiredly. He’d been right to be wary, his first date, his first _proper_ date since he got off the blood and like a bad penny, Seth shows up.

“Just wanted to see how you were doing, that’s all. Wondered if you were missing us.” Mitchell takes a slow breath and his hands clench into two tight fists. He stares at Seth for a long moment.

“As you can see, I’m fine and no, not missing you. Be sure to pass that message on now won’t you?” he replies calmly. Instead of looking put out, Seth continues to grin, he looks almost manic.

“Oh I will. You’d better get back to your girlfriend before Marco does, he’s partial to redheads remember and she looks right up his street.” Mitchell stiffens. He grabs Seth by the front of his jacket and he spins him around. Seth’s eyes go wide as Mitchell propels him backwards into a cubicle. The back of his legs hit the toilet and he sways, struggling to remain upright. His head just misses the old fashioned cistern. Mitchell glares at Seth.

“If I see Marco or _anyone_ else within three feet of her, I will hunt you down and stake you myself. Is that understood?” His voice is arctic cold but heavy with warning. Seth gasps and Mitchell shakes him.

“Is that _understood_?” he repeats sharply and Seth nods frantically. Mitchell abruptly lets go of him and watches him lose his balance and fall inelegantly into the toilet. As he turns to leave, he hears him curse.

* * *

 

His eyes look for familiar faces as he goes back into the bar but he doesn’t recognise anyone. He sees Shannon where he left her and she’s alone, sipping at her beer and watching the faces. Her eyes seem to light up when she spots him. They widen when she sees him grab his jacket.

“We’re leaving,” he informs her in a tight voice and she scrambles to her feet, following suit with her own jacket.

“We are?” He nods and she sees how his eyes scan their surroundings, it’s as if he’s looking for someone or something.

“Is everything okay Mitchell?” she enquires and he turns and looks at her.

“Everything’s fine, I just think it’s time we were heading off for the gig that’s all.” He watches as she looks at her watch. They have half an hour to kill at least but he seems insistent that they leave.

“Okay, let’s go.” She follows him out of the bar.

Once outside he pauses and waits for her to catch up. He sighs shakily and briefly folds his arms. Shannon pauses beside him and she looks at him with a mild frown on her face.

“You’re not okay are you?” She keeps her voice soft and he frowns at her.

“What are you talking about? Of course I’m okay, now we need to get going before the queue gets too big.” He holds out a hand and after the briefest of pauses, she takes it.

* * *

 

The Union Bar comes into view and already there’s quite a long queue outside. They slow down as they approach it. They join the queue and she unzips the small bag that she has strapped across her body and she extracts the two tickets, one of which she hands to him.

“It seems your decision was the right one,” she comments as she notices the small groups of people huddled together, waiting to get inside the small club. She hunches her shoulders and folds her arms. She steals a glance at Mitchell to see him doing pretty much the same thing but he’s tense, she can tell by his watchful expression, the tightness in his shoulders. His eyes are scanning the people present and she gets the distinct impression that he’s looking for someone.

* * *

 

They gain access inside; it’s a popular venue with the student population. It’s small, intimate with plenty of cheap beer on tap. Shannon is familiar with the place, having attended a few gigs in the past. It has quite the reputation for hosting gigs for some of the most promising up and coming bands in the country. The décor is dark; worn wooden flooring and on the nights where there isn’t a band playing, dozens of circular tables are dotted around the two floors, dark red velvet upholstered chairs keeping them company. The entrance to the club is street level and they walk down a steep but wide staircase to get into the bowels of the venue, where the action is due to take place. Shannon follows Mitchell to the bar which is becoming busier by the second and without asking, orders two more pints. She accepts hers gratefully as he hands it to her and as she takes a sip, she turns. The area in front of the small stage is quickly filling up. She looks back at Mitchell.

“Want to go upstairs instead? I don’t fancy getting killed in the crush down here,” he suggests and she nods. She follows him up the staircase and up onto the balcony floor that overlooks the stage and dance floor. It’s not as busy up here, only a few dozen people are milling about. They find a space and they watch the downstairs begin to fill up.

Mitchell stands beside but at the same time slightly behind Shannon. The temperature is rising as the interior fills up and he holds her drink as she shrugs off her jacket. She’s wearing tight jeans and an oversized black t-shirt and her hair is unbound and he has to admit, glorious. He noticed in the pub that she’s wearing make-up and it’s a bit of a revelation to him as he hasn’t seen her wear it before. It’s subtle but at the same time noticeable and he likes what he sees. He can smell her perfume, it smells like roses and something else, something sweeter and it teases at his senses and fills his head. She turns her head and she smiles up at him and leans against his shoulder. He slides his spare arm around her waist as the upstairs begins to fill up and more people crowd around them. He feels her arm slide around his waist and he stiffens very slightly at the contact. It takes a few moments for him to relax and allow himself to enjoy the contact.

The temperature rises and he watches the sea of bodies down below. They move restlessly in waves as they wait for the band to appear. He straightens as the atmosphere begins to change, to sharpen and suddenly the lights go down and the crowd roars as a huge pulse of electric guitars, drums and keyboard burst out of the tall speakers that flank each side of the stage. The crowd downstairs begin to go bonkers as the stage lights fix on the band and their performance begins.

Mitchell moves slightly to stand more protectively behind Shannon who is swaying to the music. He watches the performance but at the same time he watches the crowd. Call it an old habit that he finds extremely hard to break but he watches the faces, their reactions and he envies their release, of emotion and of tension. He can’t ever do that. He can’t begin to imagine the level of carnage if he ever truly did and this time he doesn’t have Herrick on hand to clean it up. It’s a particularly sobering thought. He looks at Shannon as she turns her head and looks up at him. She’s smiling.

“I love this song,” she tells him close to his ear and he lifts his head and directs his attention to the stage. He listens and he slowly smiles as he recognises the track that had made inroads in the charts recently. It’s catchy, filled with energy but sexy as hell, a song about ‘killer smiles’ and ‘female wiles’. He had liked it for purely different reasons. Shannon leans against him and she’s wiggling to the music. The close contact with his body robs him of breath and derails his train of thought. She turns to face him, her shoulders and hips shimmying to the beat and she smiles up at him. There’s such a mischievous twinkle in those eyes of hers but he can’t reciprocate, he’s too aware of her now. He can hear her heart fluttering in her chest, even above the pulsing beat of the band playing below. He can smell her perfume mixed in with sweat and powerful hormones. He struggles for a moment to hold onto the baser side of his nature.

Slowly her smile fades away when she sees the intensity in his eyes, how dark his frown is and for a moment she feels a brief fluttering of genuine fear.

“Mitchell?” Her mouth goes dry. He reaches for her, his grip gentle as his hands wrap around her wrists. He feels how delicate those bones are. He draws her closer to him and she goes willingly.

He can hear her heart bumping in her chest now, to him it’s as loud as the band playing downstairs and right now neither of them is paying them any attention.

* * *

 

 Across the balcony, she watches them. Her hands tighten on the railing in front of her, the knuckles showing white in relief as she watches them kiss. She sees how she wraps herself around him, how his arms go around her waist to anchor her to him.  It’s all very intense and possessive. She has watched them all night, from meeting in the pub earlier she’s kept what she’s felt is a safe distance but she’s made sure that they haven’t left her sight. Once or twice she’d thought that he seen her but he didn’t and now she feels impotent _jealous_ rage swell up inside of her at the sight of them together. It threatens to overwhelm and choke and the upper most emotion in her mind right now is revenge and ripping that red haired bitch to pieces.

How can he have this? It isn’t _fair_. She pushes away from where she’s standing, her eyes cloudy black with thoughts of painful bloody retribution. She doesn’t care about Eleanor’s orders, this is happening _now_.

She turns.

A pair of hands clamp tightly around her upper shoulders and she’s looking up into wide intense blue eyes.

“No you don’t,” he instructs her. Her eyes flash black and she snarls at him. He hauls her up close and lets his own eyes change.

“Not this time sweetheart,” he warns her and he pulls her out of the crowd.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are introduced to Jude Harper.

**Chapter Five:**

Her heart is thundering in her chest as they break apart and she stares up at him. There’s a mild frown on Mitchell’s face as he looks down at her. His hand trembles slightly as it comes up to brush a lock of her hair away from her cheek. She sighs raggedly and swallows against the feelings of longing that have taken root inside of her. He has unleashed something, primal and _intense_ inside of her that has left her breathless and unsettled. All around them, the concert is going on as normal and they’re being jostled by the people either side of them. They don’t pay them any attention. Mitchell takes her hand.

He leads her through the crowds and gradually it thins out and the music gets a little bit quieter. There are people sitting on the floor, their backs pressed up against the wall with drinks beside them, talking and Shannon wonders why they’re here if not to see the band.

It’s quieter back here. He chooses a quiet corner away from the others and he lowers himself down onto the aged carpet. He looks up at Shannon and then holds out his hand again. She sinks down onto the floor beside him and after the briefest of pauses, he slips an arm across her shoulders and he slowly, gently draws her up against him.

He doesn’t feel so overwhelmed sitting here with her. The pandemonium of hearts beating and pulses thudding doesn’t seem to be as loud or as irresistible sitting in this quieter corner with her. He looks at her. Her perfume tickles his senses again. She turns her head and to him it’s as though she knows he’s watching her. Her answering smile is shy and he watches how she bites her lower lip. It’s like a punch to the gut.

He reaches for her again. His hand touches her face and her eyes slid shut as his mouth touches hers. She feels so warm, so inviting and so… _human_. He feels the longing swell up inside of him. His eyes open when she pulls her head back and he’s momentarily confused. She smiles at him, that soft, knowing mysterious smile of old and he feels a brief flash of fear spark inside of him. He watches as she gets up onto her knees and she grasps his shoulders as she straddles him. His eyes go wide for a moment as she slowly and carefully sits down again. For a moment he is utterly frozen. His mind feels as though it has short circuited. Her hands still rest upon his shoulders and this time she’s the one who is kissing him. His head goes back and bumps against the wall. He’s touching warm, soft skin; his fingertips press into her back, his thumbs rub slow hypnotic circles low on her stomach. She gives a little moan and wriggles against him. He tightens his hold on her very slightly, feeling his body react. Her hands slide along his shoulders, her fingers touch his hair and her thumbs skim along his roughened jawline.

He wants more. His hands slide upwards. _He wants more_. It whispers traitorously through his brain. He wants more of her. He wants to touch her everywhere, he wants to hear her whisper encouragement, invite him inside. _He wants more._ If he wants to then he can just take, it’s there for the asking, thrumming invitingly beneath that peachy pale skin. He can hear it and with one surreptitious little nip, he could taste it too.

_No._ The denial crashes through him and he wrenches his mouth away as it clatters loudly through his skull. He gasps in a breath as he struggles to regain some semblance of control. Shannon stares at him, a mild, confused frown on her face.

“Mitchell?” she enquires in surprise and he closes his eyes for a moment and he does a slow count to three. He needs to regain control; he needs to get a grip. Slowly he removes his hands from beneath her t-shirt and he rests them deliberately on her hips. He takes another breath and opens her eyes and looks up at her.

“I’m…sorry…you probably think I’m weird now don’t you?” He waits. He waits for her dismissal, her judgement and therefore he’s surprised when she just shakes her head and she moves off his lap to resume her place beside him.

“No, you’re not weird. I probably came on a bit too strong. I should be the one apologising,” she admits.

He looks at her. “No, don’t apologise. I…liked…it,” he admits slowly. Far too much if he’s brutally honest. She smiles at him and she leans her head against his shoulder and reaches for his hand.

* * *

 

His grip on her upper arm is cruel and unrelenting as he drags her unapologetically through the hordes of people around them. The crowd thins but nobody gives them a second look. Finally they’re free but he doesn’t break his stride and he slams her up against a wall. Her eyes are wide with outrage. She straightens and makes to push past him but he grabs her just below her shoulders and he pushes her back against the wall. He doesn’t let go of her and he glowers at her.

“No you don’t,” he tells her calmly. She’s quivering with rage; he can feel every ounce of tension vibrate through her.

“Get the fuck out of my way!” she hisses at him and her eyes flash black once more. Instead of looking intimidated, he just smiles coolly.

“Is that supposed to scare me little girl?” he drawls calmly. He watches those eyes return to their normal colour, a rather enchanting deep blue he has to concede.

“I’m not a little girl!” she snarls at him.

“Oh really…you’re what, seventy-five years old? I remember being that age…that was when…oh that’s right, about the time of Henry V and Agincourt, do you know when that was?” His tone is sharp and he sees those pretty eyes of hers go wide as she calculates just when that was and how old he is. He slowly nods.

“It wasn’t just a play by Shakespeare or a film or a subject for a history book, I was there, I saw it,” he hisses angrily and just as quickly the aggression fades. He blinks.

“Like I said, you _really_ don’t scare me. You skulk, you follow, you remain hidden in the shadows. Do you honestly think that I don’t know what you’re up to?” His eyes widen and while he keeps his voice low and confidential, she hears every single word, even above the deafening music blasting through the entire club. He lowers his head so that his mouth is beside her ear. He catches a drift of floral perfume and it takes a moment for him to recognise the scent of violets. He hears her snarl and at the last minute he pulls his head back and sees her turn her face towards him with her eyes blackened and her fangs on show and his reaction is immediate. He grabs her chin and he pins her head back against the wall with one large hand. Immediately the blackness fades from her eyes and the fangs retract.

“Don’t make me muzzle you sweet pea,” he warns her. She glares at him and it makes him smile.

“Still not scared,” he whispers and his grin is fleeting. Just as quickly it disappears, his expression clears. Her eyes go wide as he slowly, surreptitiously begins to lift her until just the tips of her toes are on the floor. She begins to struggle, her fingers scratching his wrist.

“Imagine what I could do if I was _really_ upset?” His voice is mild. Their eyes hold and he sees the first shadow of real fear in hers. He lowers her to her feet and slowly he removes his hand.

“I could scream,” she warns him and he regards her steadily.

“But you won’t. Anyway, no one will hear you in this _din._ ” He turns his head to look over one shoulder before returning his attention to her. “You don’t want to attract any unnecessary attention do you? I can imagine Eleanor wouldn’t be very happy with you if you did,” He continues and he hears her sigh.

“What do you want?” she demands instead, folding her arms tightly.

“To get you to calm down first of all and then we’re leaving.” He reaches for her arm again and he glares at her when she yanks it away from his grasp.

“You really don’t want to do that sweet pea.”

“ _Don’t_ call me that!” she hisses.

“Oh why not? I think it rather suits you,” he teases but she doesn’t crack a smile. He shakes his head impatiently, becoming bored with this game.

“Come on.” His tone becomes clipped and business like.

“I’m not going anywhere with you and you can’t make me!” she retaliates and he sighs loudly in frustration, his shoulders moving in tandem. He then takes another slow deeper breath and he looks at her once more. His eyes are like chips of ice.

“Oh yes I can. Believe me; you’ll do exactly what I tell you. I could pick you up, throw you over my shoulder and walk out of here and _nobody_ would stop me,” he informs her but her expression remains mutinous. It makes him roll his eyes.

“Are we _really_ going to do this, now in front of all of these people?” he enquires. “Because I’d really rather not if it’s all the same to you.”  

A rebellious silence stretches out between them.

“So. What’s it going to be?” he enquires.

* * *

 

They sit and listen to the band playing. He has to admit, he likes the sensation of having her this close to him. He feels calmer again; the kiss they’d shared earlier had ignited his blood to the point of all out abandon. It scares him how close he came to losing complete control. He turns his head and she lifts her own to look at him. She’s so pretty. He decides he likes seeing her hair loose around her shoulders like this.

“Want to get another drink?” he suggests. She nods.

She holds onto his hand as they head to the upstairs bar. The band is still onstage and whipping the crowd up into a frenzy so the bar is reasonably empty as a result. She stands beside him but she has her back to the bar and she people watches instead. Someone bumps against her shoulder and she automatically turns her head in their direction.

He’s not quite her height and dressed in a band t-shirt and jeans. His hair is dark, unkempt and in need of a wash but he’s eyeing her with keen interest. He slowly smiles at her and indicates the bar.

“Can I buy you a drink sweetheart?” he asks and she catches a drift of beer and body odour and she politely recoils. She just shakes her head.

“I’m with someone,” she answers. She watches how he leans forwards very slightly and assesses Mitchell. She turns her head in Mitchell’s direction. He’s chatting to the barman as he hands over some money and he smiles as he receives his change. He doesn’t seem to have noticed their exchange.

“Ah now, surely you can do better than him?” the voice challenges close to her ear and Shannon turns her head and she gives him a long, long look.

“What, with you? Have you looked in a mirror recently?” she answers, her eyes narrowing.

 His expression turns defensive. “You’re not so hot yourself sweetheart,” he snarls back.

“But yet here you are trying it on,” she reminds him and sees his cheeks burn a dull red.

“Is there a problem here?” Mitchell’s voice interrupts and she looks at him. His expression is watchful, his gaze darts between her and the unwelcome guest.

“No. Not a problem,” she replies and she stares blankly at her wannabe suitor.

“You should watch that one mate, trying it on with anything that moves,” he warns Mitchell. Shannon’s eyes widen in outrage and her mouth drops open. Mitchell goes past her to stand in front of him.

“Is that a fact now?” he enquires mildly and he watches as he smiles and nods.

“They’re nothing but trouble those ones, it’s all that red hair…” He gets no further as Mitchell grabs him by his throat and pushes him back. He then turns him slightly and shoves him up against the wall beside the bar and he thrusts his face into his.

“You should really learn how to give up a lost cause with some sort of grace because she refused your kind offer of a drink and she explained why. You didn’t have to insult her because now it means that you insulted me.” His voice lowers to a whisper and he notices how his eyes widen with fright. He feels that age old power begin to surge through him. It’s been a while.

“Under any other circumstances you’d be lucky to leave this place with your life so I suggest you move your skinny arse and get the fuck out of here because if I see you here again, there’ll be more than trouble, do you understand me?” His eyes flash black for a brief second and he feels him stiffen with true fear.

“Mitchell.” He hears Shannon’s voice, feels her hand wrap around his wrist and he releases his hold on his captive.

“He’s really not worth it,” she tells him. Mitchell straightens and watches his adversary scuttle away, his hand rubbing his throat. Mitchell turns his head slightly and sees a tall tuxedo-clad security guard on the periphery, watching the proceedings with caution. Mitchell lifts both hands in concession and he melts away. He turns his head and he looks at Shannon. He swallows.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises and he waits for her reaction. She sighs as she looks up at him. There’s a very faint reproachful smile in her eyes.

“It was…gallant. Not right, but gallant.”

“He had no right to speak to you like that.”

Her eyes go round. “You heard what he said to me?” she breathes. He had, he’d heard every word.

“I felt your reaction more, he was a dick.”

A year ago he would have literally ripped his head from his shoulders for what he’d said. He takes a deep breath.

“It won’t happen again,” he promises. He watches as she turns to the bar and she picks up two plastic beer glasses and she hands one of them to him. She then stands on her tiptoes and presses a kiss on his unshaven cheek.

“Come on, I want to watch the band some more before they finish,” she tells him and takes his other hand. He follows willingly.

* * *

 

The night air is cool and sweet and he inhales. He looks at Jessie.

“Night air, you just can’t beat it!” he announces almost jubilantly but she eyes him suspiciously.

“Whatever,” she mutters instead and her eyes scan her surroundings. He tightens his grip on her hand and her eyes fly back to his face.

“Don’t think about it sweet pea, I think I’ve had all I can take of your behaviour for one night. There’s a café around the corner that’s open all night, or there used to be the last time I was here…” he mutters to himself as he looks up and down the empty street as if trying to get his bearings. Jessie watches him.

“When was that?” she asks curiously and he looks at her and flashes a quick smile at her. Its potency takes her by surprise. He has a pretty devastating smile that illuminates his entire face.

“Umm…what year is it now?” he asks and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s the new millennium.”

“Ah yes, the year two thousand. Wow, doesn’t the time just _fly?_ ….anyway to answer your question, last time I was in this part of Bristol was around…nineteen fifty…give or take.” He shrugs, looks up the street one more time and then sighs. “This way!” he announces and sets off at a brisk pace, dragging Jessie along behind him.

* * *

The gig is over and the band goes off stage and the silence that follows such loud music makes Shannon’s ears ring. She looks up at Mitchell and he slips an arm across her shoulder.

They follow everyone else out onto the street and the crowds dissipate, going in several different directions. Some seek food, others taxis and lifts and the like and others just want to walk and talk about the gig that they’ve just witnessed. Once outside, Mitchell’s arm drops from around her shoulders and instead he takes her hand. She looks at him and she softly smiles.

“Want me to walk you to a taxi rank?” he asks as they begin to walk.

“Tomorrow is Saturday, my official sleeping in day. There’s no great rush is there?” She glances at him and she sees him shake his head. She’s glad because to be honest, she does not want this night to end.

“No, no rush,” he confirms.

“Good,” she murmurs.

* * *

 

“Brilliant! It’s still here!” he exclaims with almost childish joy and Jessie rolls her eyes once more. They’ve paused outside of a small old fashioned coffee shop with huge plate glass windows. At the back of the shop is a high wooden counter with a variety of glass covered dishes on display. He opens the door and goes inside, his entry announced by the jolly sounding bell above the door itself. He glances up at it and gives it an almost pleased grin as he approaches the counter and the young man that is behind it.

“What would you like? There’s coffee, tea, milkshakes, coke?” He throws the choices at her like machine gun fire and her brain spins. She stares at the chalkboard on the wall behind the counter for a moment before she looks at him.

“Ummm…black coffee,” she requests. He looks at the waiter and he flashes a smile at him.

“Make that two,” he tells him and he turns and regards the tables that are dotted about. He pulls her to the one closest to the window.

“Sit,” he instructs and he waits as she does so and only now does he release his hold on her hand. He drops down onto the seat beside her and he regards her keenly. Then he sighs almost theatrically.

“Do you know…you are _stunning_ to look at, a photographer’s dream. It’s such a shame that you are what you are because you’d do any magazine cover justice,” he tells her in a suddenly lower voice. She blinks in surprise. He rests his chin on the palm of one hand, still regarding her.

“Such a pity but I’d love to draw you, if you’d let me?”

“ _Let_ you, do I have a choice? You’ve pretty much steam-rolled your way over me since we first met earlier,” she snarls at him and he blinks.

“Have I? I’m sorry, I do that sometimes,” he apologises and he lowers his arm.

“Don’t you understand why I did what I did before? You were about to do something so completely stupid, so utterly catastrophic and all because he kissed a girl. Jealousy is devastating Jessie, it consumes us all sometimes and only thing it succeeds in doing is make us look like complete fools.”

“How do you know my name?” she demands.

“You’d be surprised what I know about you Jessica Mayhew or more to the point, the company that you keep. Eleanor Brennan, Jimmy Fitzgerald…” He lets his voice trail away. She frowns darkly at him.

“I don’t know your name,” she accuses him and he widens blue eyes.

“Oh didn’t I introduce myself earlier? I do that a lot too. My name dear Jessie, is Jude Harper but you can call me Harper.” He holds out a hand to shake but she doesn’t respond and after a moment, he lowers it.

“What do you want with me?” she demands. She looks up as their coffee arrives. Harper flashes a quick smile to their waiter and drags a handful of notes and coins out of his trouser pocket and dumps them onto the table. He counts off some coins and hands them to him and he watches him depart. He then returns his attention to Jessie.

“I want you to leave John Mitchell alone.”


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting to know you...as much as a vampire is willing...

**Chapter Six:**

Mitchell hands the opened bottle to her and watches her take a sip. She smiles at him as they begin to walk again.

“How did you know about this place, I thought everywhere was closed at this time of night?” There’s laughter in her voice and he smiles faintly.

“You’d be surprised about what I know about this city, I know where all the best places are for late night beer.” He lifts his own bottle and clinks it against hers.

“Cheers,” she responds. He looks down and then slides his fingers through hers and he feels mild satisfaction at how they curl around his. It’s loose, companionable and just… _nice._  

He looks back at the small hidden store. Barnabas had been surprised to see him again. His business is one of the better secrets of the vampire community, those worthy of being in the know knew about it. It was a small, ‘family’ owned business, discreet and it prided itself in not drawing any unwanted attention to the community. It sold the usual stuff a corner shop might sell but with an extra something hidden out back in huge refrigerators. Mitchell has never partaken himself, having a natural preference for the warm fresh stuff but he’s heard that it’ll do in a pinch if necessary. It’s an odd kind of a place but it works weirdly enough. Barnabas kept the conversation to a minimum but Mitchell does not doubt that news of his visit will be reaching various vampire ears before the weekend is over. He’s loyal to Herrick like that.

* * *

 

Mitchell lifts his head when he sees her building come into view. He steals a glance at her and he sees her surprise too.

“Did we just walk all the way from the Union Bar?” She pauses briefly and he looks at her.

“I believe we did,” he replies.

She looks at him. “I must’ve had more than I thought to drink because it feels like five minutes ago we were leaving that place.”

Mitchell looks at his watch. “The gig finished over an hour ago,” he reminds her. She sways on her heels and lifts her hand to her head.

“Wow, time flies,” she hiccups and covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes going wide. Mitchell chuckles and he draws her up against him. She looks up at him and she laughs.

“Sorry,” she apologises “but I think the walk has got to me,” she confesses. He slides an arm across her shoulders.

“You’re not far from home now, come on,” he gently urges and they begin to walk again.

He follows her to her front door. He turns his head. The area is deserted and they haven’t passed anyone for the last half an hour. He listens to the silence and he looks back at Shannon as she scratches her key into the lock and gives it a twist.  She then looks at him over a shoulder.

“Would you like to come in?” she asks and he pauses. He regards her, assessing her and after a treacherous moment of inner turmoil where the uppermost thought in his mind is to get her inside and into her flat and do…God knows what, he slowly, regretfully shakes his head. She frowns slightly.

“You sure?”

He exhales loudly and this time he nods though he doesn’t want to leave her yet. She turns more fully to look at him and he can see that she looks honestly taken by surprise. He pauses and he closes his hands into tight fists.

“I’d like to…I’d really like to but you know what…I’ve just come out of a long term… _thing_ and I want to take things…slowly. I like you Shannon and tonight has been great, a lot of fun…” His voice tapers off and he waits for her response. Will she change her mind about him? He watches as she seems to digest what he’s said and she slowly nods.

“I can understand that and it’s fine, it really is…and just so you know, I’m not a complete and utter slut all of the time,” she informs him with a semi-embarrassed laugh and his eyes widen.

“Oh…no…of course not…” he stammers and he watches her slowly smile.

“There’s that gallantry shining through again.” She keeps her voice low but he hears the smile in it. He swallows. He’s not gallant; he has never been such a thing. He’s been much, much worse in the past. It’s an uncomfortable label to be given.

“Ah.” He watches as she takes a step towards him. She reaches out and she grasps the front of his leather jacket and she holds on tightly.

“I’ve had the most wonderful evening Mitchell, thank you.” She looks up at him.  “Maybe we can do something together again soon?” she suggests.

“That would be nice…I’d like that,” he admits.

She softly smiles. “Good. Good night Mitchell.” She stands on tiptoes and presses her lips against his.

* * *

 

He can taste beer and he catches a whiff of her perfume as it rises with her body heat and surrounds him. His arms come up and they go around her. She’s warm and she’s responsive.

That purely male instinctive part of him kicks in with a rush as they tumble through the opened door and he presses her up against the wall. He briefly lifts his head and through blurry eyes he swiftly takes in his surroundings. They’re in a communal hallway of some kind. He takes a breath and looks down at Shannon. Her expression is drowsy, inviting and again he struggles with the internal demons raging war inside of him. Once upon a time he would’ve accepted her invitation, hell if it was anyone else _but_ Shannon he still would have but he does like her and they’ve had such a great night together. It’s all new and shiny for him and he briefly frowns at her. He feels her arm go around his neck and she’s pulling his head down and her mouth is claiming his again. Those thoughts flee his brain as he loses himself in her, in that human connection.

He can feel his darker side struggling beneath the surface. He’s hard, he wants to be inside of her, he wants to rip her clothes off and do her, right here and right now and she’s not showing any signs to say that she’s adverse to the idea. He buries his face in the curve of her neck and he feels her hands boldly explore, touch and stroke. He wants her to, he needs her to. He drags in a lungful of air as he feels her go for the button fly of his jeans. For a moment he lets her, he _wants_ her to. His breath is heaving in his lungs, he inhales, getting a lungful of her perfume and he feels the change roar through him. He lifts his head slightly and stares blindly, blackly at the wall over her shoulder. He can feel his fangs erupting.  Now…it has to be _now_ …

 Oh God.

“Stop…. Just… Christ…stop…” His voice comes out a hoarse, desperate whisper and he reaches down and grabs her hand. He closes his eyes and rests his head against her shoulder and he struggles to regain his composure. He’s so close to that line, so desperately close to losing complete control and it terrifies him. He screws his eyes shut tighter and an almost desperate gasp escapes from him.

_I can do this. I can do this. Oh God help me, I can do this._

“Mitchell?” Her breathing sounds ragged to his ears and he slowly counts to three before he lifts his head and he trusts himself to look at her once more.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and he offers a faint smile. She tilts her head to one side.

“Is everything okay…because I thought we…?”

He puts a small bit of space between them and he frames her face with his hands. “We were…it was just going a bit too fast that’s all.”

Her eyes widen slightly “Wow…”

“I know…coming from a bloke right? I suppose I’m a bit old fashioned like that but I really do like you and I have a habit of…making a mess of things when things go too fast…friendships, relationships, I’m a walking disaster area in that respect and I don’t want that to happen with us…with you.” He stares at her, willing her to understand and after a brief pause she sighs and she nods.

“I like you too Mitchell and I understand.” Her eyes are huge in her face. Her make-up is smudged, her lipstick long since gone but she still looks appealing.

_She’s warm, she has a heartbeat, you can hear her blood pumping through her veins, so of course she’s appealing a cynical voice bounces around inside of his head._

“Do you?” He sounds almost desperate and her answering nod is quick.

Mitchell bends his head and he presses a soft, almost chaste kiss on her mouth.

“Thanks,” he whispers.

* * *

 

Harper watches how Jessie freezes at his clearly spoken instruction.

“Why?”

“Because I’m asking you to and it’s not exactly rocket science. You cease with this lurking in the shadows business and leave the man alone to enjoy his relationships and his life and you get on with your own life instead,” he replies as he sits back in his seat.

“It isn’t as easy as that,” she answers. Harper takes an almost delicate sip of his coffee before he responds.

“Why isn’t it? This isn’t your fight Jessie, it’s someone else’s and you’re caught up in the middle of it and it isn’t fair on you.” He watches how her gaze drops and she seems intensely interested in her coffee cup all of a sudden.

“You’re very unhappy for some reason and I don’t think Mitchell is the reason behind it. I can see it in your eyes, the dissatisfaction, something is eating at you.” Slowly Jessie lifts her head to look at him. He waits for the pithy comment but nothing is forthcoming. He’s hit a nerve he realises.

“That’s where you’re wrong, he’s completely the reason behind it,” she tells him.  Harper sighs.

“What do you intend to do to him once you get your hands on him?” he asks and she frowns for a moment.

“I’m going to kill him,” she replies honestly and Harper watches how she drinks her coffee after her announcement, it has almost revitalised her. The silence stretches between them for a moment or two. Then he quietly sighs.

“Okay. Let’s ponder this shall we? You were how old when you were turned? Eighteen I’d guess and with your vampire years taken into consideration, that makes you close to a century old. Mitchell in comparison was almost twenty four when he was turned, he has been a vampire for eighty three years and that makes him over a century old, so you’re thinking those are pretty good odds, am I correct?” He doesn’t wait for her to respond but he sees the caution return to those lovely blue eyes of hers.

“There’s one major difference between you and I’m not talking about the o _bvious_ one…” He flashes a quick smile at her as he quickly shakes his head. The smile promptly disappears as he stares at her.

“Mitchell was a soldier and before he was turned he killed many in the name of King and Country. His subsequent reputation as a vampire is legendary, no matter what Eleanor may have told you, he _was_ notorious, he _was_ feared and he was also…exalted in a way because of that reputation. He didn’t earn it through myth, rumours and half-truths; his reputation was earned through hard truth and fact. If he was said to have done something, he really _had_ done it. Edgar Wyndam himself likes and admires him.”

“Eleanor has already told me this,” she interrupts impatiently

“Then why aren’t you listening? Why aren’t you paying attention to her?” Harper demands.

“Because I don’t care,” Jessie retorts. Harper leans forwards.

“Then you really should because John Mitchell will kill you before you get within a foot of him Jessie. He may be on the wagon for now but if he senses a threat from another vampire then he will kill. The first rule of a vampire is to kill or be killed and he _will_ take you out without another thought.” He watches her and a new understanding dawns. “You want him to,” he murmurs and she looks away. His eyes widen with surprise. “But _why_?”

 When she looks back at him, there are angry tears in her eyes. “You wouldn’t understand,” she defends and he stares at her, puzzled.

“You might be surprised, I’ve been around a while, and I’ve heard pretty much everything.” She sighs loudly and wraps her hands around her coffee cup. Harper watches and he waits as she takes another mouthful and she wipes at her eyes before she looks back at him.

“I’m so sick and tired of this life, of my life. I’m just the same as I was back then, when I woke up in that bedroom with Eleanor sitting beside my bed watching and waiting for me. Nothing ever changes. All around me people are living their lives, falling in love, getting married, having children, growing old and _dying_ for Christ’s sake and I’m just… _here_ , frozen in time like a statue.” Another tear rolls down her cheek and drips off her chin. Harper watches, utterly pole-axed by her misery. He swallows. She wipes at her face once more.

“Look at you….how old are you? How can you _stand_ it?”

“I don’t know, I just do. Do you know when I was created, when I was made? Over six hundred and fifty years ago. Before that I was living my life such as it was, in servitude. I was a stable hand for a well to do family from Oxfordshire and we were in London and the Plague broke out and it decimated lives, I mean people were dropping in the streets, there was terror and paranoia everywhere. Then I got ill with it and I was flung in the stable and left to suffer a slow torturous agony alone by my kind employers. My maker turned me in that stable while outside people were screaming in the streets and panic reigned. His name was Matthew and I was his companion and pupil for close to two centuries before he was ended and I struck out on my own. I’ve been alone for almost five hundred years now and sometimes it does feel like an eternity but good God Jessie there’s a whole world out there, begging to be discovered. If you’re like us, you just have to know how and where to look.” He watches her. “But why fixate on Mitchell?” he asks curiously. Jessie shakes her head and she drains the last of her coffee. She plunks it down and she stares at him.

“I’m going home now, are you going to stop me?” she challenges.

“I’d like to walk you home, if that’s okay?” he answers and she pauses. A second blinks past.

“Why would you want to do that?” she doesn’t try to hide the hostility. Harper glances down at his coffee cup briefly and he shrugs at the same time.

“Why not? You interest me Jessie, I’d like to get to know you if you’d let me?” He slowly looks back up at her. She’s confused; he can see her struggling against it.

“I’m not a specimen,” she hisses instead.

“I didn’t say that you were sweet pea, I said that you interested me, there’s a difference. What do you say?”

“If I said no would you leave me alone?” she asks, her tone tired and put upon. He grins and shakes his head.

“Not really, as you’ve probably realised, I can be very headstrong, very strong willed and very bloody annoying,” he quips and he has the satisfaction of hearing her chuckle. It’s a musical sound that is strangely pleasing to his ears. He flashes a smile in response.

“So…does mummy have you on a curfew or can you stay out late?” he asks in a loud stage whisper and he sees the new sparkle of mischief in her eyes. Just a few moments ago there’d been tears in those eyes of hers, calling her mercurial is a bit of an understatement.

“Nobody tells me what I can and can’t do,” she loftily informs him and he gets the distinct impression that she’s throwing down a gauntlet of some kind. He smiles once more. He holds out a hand across the table, palm turned upwards.

“So if I’m not walking you back home do want to have some fun with me instead?” he invites and her eyes go wide as she regards him. She looks down at his hand and slowly, deliberately she places her own into it.

* * *

 

“Where’s your flat?” Mitchell asks. He watches as she glances at the staircase. She swallows and looks back at him.

“The shoebox at the top of the building, one bedroom, very tiny but it does me,” she replies.

“Go on, go up,” Mitchell whispers and he lowers his hands. She looks up at him.

“Do you want to do something tomorrow?” she asks, she wants to see him again, outside of work. He makes her feel unsettled, he makes her feel… _bold_.

“Like what?” he asks and she shrugs. She hasn’t thought that far ahead, she just wants to see him.

“I don’t know,” she admits quietly.

“Why don’t I meet you here, say around two and we’ll play it by ear, how does that sound?” he suggests and she slowly smiles. She just nods.

“Two o’clock,” he repeats and she nods once more.

“I’ll be ready,” she promises. He looks into her eyes, at that funny shade of brown and gold that he’s coming to like.

Her heart is trembling in her chest as she lets herself into her small one bedroomed flat. She closes and locks the door and she tosses her keys onto the little table nearby. She unhooks her jacket and she goes into her living room. She heads for the window and she looks out. He’s on the street, walking slowly away with his hands pushed into the pockets of his leather jacket. She watches him until he fades into the shadows.

She turns and switches on a single lamp and the soft glow fills the room. She looks around the small room and she sighs shakily. Her body is still humming, she feels a little off kilter, disjointed and unsatisfied somewhat. She had invited him in, she wanted to drag him off to bed and do wild, uninhibited _naughty_ things with him and he turned her down. She thought for sure she had changed his mind down in the hall but no. It was a novelty. Most blokes she’s gone out with would have been only too keen to get her into bed and she’s had to use various methods of evasion to avoid them. This one is different, he’s strangely old fashioned which doesn’t exactly tally with how he looks. Maybe he’s secretly religious or something. Whatever the reason, there are some possibilities there that she needs to work on. She blinks and shakes her head and chuckles. She’s had far too much to drink tonight. She’ll see him tomorrow and she’s really looking forward to it.

* * *

 

The silence of the night envelops Mitchell and he’s lost in his thoughts of her. He can hear Carl’s voice remonstrating in his head telling him that it’s far too soon to be thinking about relationships, that he’s nowhere near ready to put in the effort of maintaining any kind of a relationship and maybe a month ago he would’ve agreed with him. He can barely take care of himself. Jesus, tonight he should’ve agreed with him. The line between control and catastrophe tonight had been alarmingly thin. Kissing her like that in the hall, remembering where her hands had been, what they had been doing had almost been his downfall. He doesn’t trust himself yet, he can’t.  

He feels that familiar slide into panic. Maybe he should just walk away now before too much gets invested. Maybe it would be safer but safer for whom? He frowns. His stride lengthens and his pace increases. He should just get the hell out of here; he can get another job somewhere else, start somewhere new. The thoughts ramble and trip over themselves in his head. She’ll find out what he is anyway and then she won’t want to have anything to do with him so why take chances now? Let her hate him rather than find out the truth. He pauses as his building looms in front of him and he frowns at it. He wills the panic down. He takes a slow deep breath and stares straight ahead.

He wants a chance at being human, he wants to try and _be_ somewhat normal and Shannon is disarmingly ordinary and human and sweet. They’ve made a date to meet later and he wants to keep it. He wants to spend some time with her. He likes her, he likes her a hell of a lot. If she does find out what he really is, maybe she’ll surprise him and understand? Slowly the frown returns and he pushes open the gate.

Perhaps it’s safer that she never learns his truth.


	7. Chapter Seven.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting to know you...getting to know (nearly) all about you... part two...

**Chapter Seven:**

She walks companionably by his side. He’s quiet, almost thoughtful and she glances at him and she wonders what is going through his mind. He turns his head and the smile that he offers her is fleeting and quickly gone again. He takes in his surroundings. He watches, he observes and he listens. He’s been alive for six hundred and fifty years; he’s had plenty of experience.

They head back into the town centre. Jessie takes in the humanity swilling around her. They’re queuing up everywhere, to get into various nightclubs, in places that sell food that can be eaten quickly on the street, waiting at bus stops and taxi ranks. They all wait with various degrees of patience for something or someone.

“Where are we going?” she asks him and again he looks at her.

“I don’t know, where do you want to go?” he answers.

“I don’t know either but I do know that I’m hungry.” Harper slows down and eventually he stops. Jessie does like wise and they look at each other.

“Hungry?” He slowly tilts his head to one side as he regards her.  She smiles at him and it takes him a little bit by surprise.

“Yeah…hungry! It’s been a while and I need to feed, surely you need to also?” He notices just how her eyes sparkle at the mention of blood. He sighs quietly.

“Actually I don’t…feed that is.” He watches as she slowly frowns.

“What do you mean you _don’t_ feed, you’re a vampire, of course you feed,” she replies impatiently.

He shakes his head. “Not true, there are a group of us who don’t, who choose not to.”

“But…it’s unnatural, how can you not want blood?” she demands uncomprehendingly. Harper looks around, wondering if anyone is close enough to overhear their conversation. He looks back at her.

“I’ll always want… _crave_ …blood but I choose not to drink it.” He watches her grapple with the information.

“Why?”

“It’s a personal choice that’s all, I’d just rather…not,” he confesses.

“So how do you survive?” She regards him with open curiosity now.

“I do, you’ll be surprised to know that the world, _our_ world doesn’t exclusively revolve around blood, around feeding. It’s a power thing, a drug to most but I choose not to be part of it.”

“Doesn’t it make you weak?”

“In what sense?”

Jessie shrugs. “Eleanor says that it’s the vitality within the blood, its warmth that gives us our strength and without it we’d just wither and…die.” Her voice fades as his expression changes.

“Spoken by a vampire who hasn’t gone a day without feeding I imagine. While it’s true that blood has that definite… _something_ , that addictive quality, there’s also a certain amount of strength in forsaking it, in choosing to live a cleaner, purer life. It’s not pleasant at the beginning but it is worth it in the long run.” His eyes slide away from her face and he turns his head slightly to take in the people milling around them. He looks at her once more and reaches for her hand again. This time his grasp is gentle.

“Now I promised you some fun and fun is what we shall have,” he tells her and he flashes a smile her way.

* * *

 

They walk for a little while longer and she has no idea of where they’re going. There’s no conversation between them and strangely enough the silence between them doesn’t feel that awkward. She can barely take her eyes off him. At the start of the night she didn’t know he existed, their first meeting had been hostile, confrontational and now….now she feels like she’s known him all of her life and it’s disturbing.

After a while, she hears it. Initially it’s very quiet but eventually it grows louder as it carries on the still spring air. Her eyes widen and she looks questioningly at him.

“Is that…” she begins and he smiles at her. He tightens his grip on her hand very slightly as his pace increases.

“I hope we’re not too late…” They reach the end of a long street and turn the corner and there it is. Jessie’s eyes widen.

“Oh my God,” she breathes and Harper grins at her.

“Come on.” He gives her hand a tug as they hurry across the road towards the entrance.

 Jessie stares at it, open mouthed with shock. It’s a fairground and her eyes go wide at the myriad of multi coloured lights, at the music playing, at the stalls and rides and treats on display. She inhales and she can smell fish and chips, burgers, the sweetness that is candyfloss and she looks at him with wide, wondrous eyes.

“Fantastic isn’t it?” He smiles at her once more. He turns his head and he frowns when he sees the massive entry gates beginning to close. He lets go of Jessie’s hand.

“No,” he murmurs under his breath and he hurries across.

“We’re not too late are we?” Harper keeps his voice on the jovial side as he approaches the man who is dragging the gates closed. The man straightens and regards him suspiciously.

“I’m afraid you are, sorry,” he replies apologetically.

“Oh no, it’s just I promised my girlfriend…” He turns his head to where Jessie is standing. She’s regarding them both in between staring up at the lights in wide eyed wonder. He returns his attention to the security guard. “Please mate…” His tone becomes persuasive as he digs his hand into his trouser pocket and the security guard watches him extract a handful of notes.

“It’d mean such a lot to her…and to me…if you know what I mean?” He pastes what he hopes passes for a hopeful expression on his face. He watches him and he waits. The guard sighs and Harper grins and pushes the cash into his hand.

“Thanks mate…you’re a star!” He pats his arm enthusiastically and he looks back to Jessie and he beckons her over.

“You’ve got an hour, no more!” the guard tells them as they slip inside.

* * *

 

It’s deserted apart from the fairground workers who regard them curiously but don’t challenge them. Harper regards Jessie.

“Come on, what do you want to go on first?” he asks, throwing out an arm at the variety of different rides. Her eyes are like saucers as she turns her head to look at him.

“There’s hardly anyone here, it looks like they’re about to close down for the night,” she replies as she moves closer to him.

“I persuaded them to stay open for a little bit longer. Come on.” He urges her forwards and then pauses as he becomes aware of her reticence.

“What’s wrong?” She looks back at him.

“Is all of this just for us?” she breathes and he stares at her.

“If you want it to be. When was the last time you were at a place like this?” He watches how she seems to be utterly transfixed by the lights and sounds and smells.

“I was a child and it was nothing like this,” she breathes with shining eyes. She looks sharply at him as he gently takes her hand.

“Come on then, you’re in for a treat,” he promises her and tugs her along with him.

* * *

 

For a little while she feels uncomfortable as she follows Harper from stall to stall. His enthusiasm is contagious however and slowly but surely, she thaws and she finds herself smiling more and becoming more involved in this fantasy that is slowly evolving around them.

No one seems to think that it’s odd that these two people are here when the fairground should have closed for the night. Jessie clings to his hand as they explore and he feeds from her childish pleasures, the sparkle in those beautiful eyes of hers.

They ride on a carousel of gaily painted horses and he hears her laugh out loud with utter joy. He chuckles as a ride on the high speed spinning Waltzer makes her dizzy. A smile lights up her face and he begins to get an idea of how she was before she was turned. It makes him wonder why she wants Mitchell so badly considering he wasn’t the one who recruited her. He listens to the happy, chattering music with half an ear. He’s heard the stories of Mitchell and of how notorious he was so his new found sobriety has caused shockwaves to reverberate throughout the entire vampire community. The Old Ones especially don’t think that it is possible. They see potential for John Mitchell, possibilities of greatness that could even in time surpass Edgar Wyndam. That whisper of gossip has chilled Jude Harper to the bone.

Their hour is over far too quickly and they make their exit drunk on the company of each other and the ambience of the fairground. He has introduced Jessie to the sticky confection that is candyfloss. He laughs at her attempt to eat it in a ladylike fashion before he snatches a hank of it and shoves it inelegantly into his own mouth which makes her giggle helplessly. He grins at her.

“You…” she chuckles a bit and points to the corner of her own mouth and he pretends ignorance.

“I’ve…what?”  She grins and he halts and turns to her.

“What?” he asks again and her laughter fades but remnants sparkle in her eyes.

“You have…candyfloss…” She reaches for it, daintily pulling it free from the corner of his mouth. He watches her, a smile in his eyes too.

“Oh…” He rubs at the spot and feels the stickiness of it beneath his fingertips. She smiles at him and he can’t fail to be affected by it.

“Have you had fun tonight Jessie?” he asks her as they begin to walk again. She looks at the luminous pink candyfloss that she carries in her other hand before returning her attention to him. She’s completely different from their first meeting. He finds it hard to believe that was only three hours or so ago. She’s like another person. He watches her eat some more of it.

“Any more of that and you’ll be bouncing off the walls until dawn from the sugar rush,” he teases her and she flashes him an impudent look.

“It’s delicious.”

“It’ll rot your teeth!”

“So I’ll brush them for an extra minute tonight.”

“Don’t forget!”

“I won’t.” Harper rolls his eyes and pauses and looks at her. “You like the last word don’t you?”

Her smile widens to one of triumph.

“Always.”

Her smile fades as his expression sharpens, a mild frown marring his face. A charged moment passes between them before he sighs and reaches for her hand and he holds it tenderly.

“Come on, time to get you safely home Cinderella.”

“It’s way past midnight,” she reminds him.

“I’m well aware of that,” he comments with a blossoming grin.

* * *

 

They walk and they talk. He tells her stories of the age of chivalry before there were cars and computers and telephones. She listens, enraptured by the tales that he tells, the things that he has witnessed, the places he has visited. It helps to lift that muddy fog that seems to trail after her these days, to hear about someone else’s existence. It’s nice.

She stops walking and he stares quizzically at her. He then takes in his surroundings, lots of expensive looking houses, an exclusive residential area. Wouldn’t the neighbours love to know the kind of company that they keep?

“I take it you don’t want me to escort you to the door?” he quips. The smile that he has quickly gotten used to is missing this time. Instead she just abruptly shakes her head. Harper frowns.

“Is everything okay Jessie?” he asks. She looks up at him and her eyes are wide and almost…afraid.  She gives a shaky sigh and he watches how she straightens up. He witnesses the warmth drain out of her eyes and the change is chilling.

“Everything is fine. I have to go, thanks for a surprisingly…lovely evening,” she replies formally and he finds that he doesn’t like this change in demeanour; he likes the giggly, childish, candyfloss addicted version much more.

“So that’s it?” he asks and it’s Jessie’s turn to frown.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re giving me the brush off. Jessie…”

“Harper…you stopped me from killing Mitchell tonight but it hasn’t changed my mind about him or what I intend to do,” she tells him and he frowns darkly.

“Then you’ll have to keep looking over your shoulder for me Jessie because I won’t let you near him, I can’t.”

“Why? What possible business is it of yours?” she demands. Harper takes a half step towards her and he grasps one of her wrists.

“He _will_ kill you,” he hisses. She doesn’t reply. He sighs roughly and lets go of her.

“Fine but be warned. Where ever you go, I won’t be far away, you won’t see me but I’ll be there and if I have to, I’ll talk to Mitchell myself and I’ll tell him what you plan to do and do you know what he’ll do? He will laugh,” he taunts and has the satisfaction of seeing her expression darken.

“Or alternatively you and I could spend some time together as friends, away from all of this, this vendetta. I like you Jessie and if you let me I could show you another world, a world that is an aeon away from your existence here.”

“How could you possibly do that?” she breathes.

“I’m over six hundred years old Jessie, how do you think?” He pauses and continues to watch her.

“So…what do you say?” The silence between them seems to stretch for an infinity before she nods. She turns her head and she looks along the length of the deserted street.

“Alright. I’ll be in touch,” she informs him. He nods to himself.

“I’ll be around if you need me,” he promises. “But you’d better get going before mummy sends out a search party,” he tells her, his tone slightly mocking. She turns her head back to argue but instead sees an empty space. She turns in a quick tight circle but he’s vanished into thin air.

* * *

 

Mitchell has every intention of not showing up for their date this afternoon. His sleep that night was punctuated with nightmares of him doing the most despicable things to her, of being drenched in her blood, revelling in it and he awoke filled with a sick sense of horror. The rest of the morning is spent pacing the floor of his tiny shambolic living room, worrying his already wrecked thumbnails into a further state of disrepair. Every time he gets too close to her, he feels himself begin to weaken. He wants her, he wants that connection to her but he’s scared of what that will unleash. He had a taste of it last night and he’ll kill himself before he allows himself to hurt her.  He sighs raggedly, impatiently. He still doesn’t know what to do. He knows what he should do but it’s not what he wants to do.

Shannon is a bundle of nerves as she hovers beside her living room window. She watches for him. She’s been awake for hours, barely grabbing enough sleep since his departure the night before. She’s running on vapours and caffeine. It’s a perfect summer’s day outside with clear blue skies and not a cloud to be seen. It’s given her the most wonderful idea for their proposed afternoon out.

She sees him walking slowly along the street, wearing a bleached faded denim jacket, jeans and a cotton scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. Dark sunglasses complete the look and for a moment she allows herself the luxury of just watching him before she turns from the window and she grabs her bag and jacket and sunglasses on the way.

He pauses by the gate and watches her emerge. She’s wearing denim shorts and a loose fitting white t-shirt and she’s carrying a large shoulder bag and her jacket. She smiles at him and he smiles in response. He feels nerves flutter in the pit of his stomach as she approaches him.

“Hey.” Her tone is slightly breathless, as if she’s been running. He nods very slightly.

“Hey yourself,” he answers and then he indicates the bag “What’s in there?”  She glances at it as she hikes it further along her shoulder.

“I thought we could walk through Victoria Park, sit by the river. I packed a picnic, it’s such a nice day and all.” She looks up at the sky, the warmth caressing her skin.  Mitchell shrugs restlessly.

“Cool,” he mutters. She glances at him as they begin to walk.

“Everything okay Mitchell?” she asks and he looks at her again.

“Everything is fine,” he responds. She pauses and it makes him do likewise and look at her.

“If you don’t want to do this then please just tell me because I’m getting the impression that I’m wasting your time.”

He takes off his sunglasses.

“I’m sorry, I can be a moody bastard at times plus I didn’t get much sleep last night. You’re not wasting your time Shannon, not at all,” he tells her. She looks up at him. He quietly sighs and he reaches for her bag, gently sliding it from her shoulder. “The park sounds nice, quiet and we can talk, it’ll be a nice change not having to yell above the music to make ourselves heard.” He reaches for her hand.  “Come on. Like you said, it’s a nice day; it’d be a shame to waste it.”

* * *

 

The sun is blessedly warm on their skin as they walk towards the park.

A lot of people have the same idea. Shannon glances at them as they walk by. She sneaks a look back at Mitchell. His sunglasses are back on and as a result she can’t see his eyes He’s looking straight ahead and looks to be lost in thought.

“Over there.” She points to a spot by the river. He turns his head and without prompting, heads towards a patch of grass shaded by a Weeping Willow tree, its trailing branches almost reaching the ground. Once they get there, she takes her shoulder bag from him and he watches her rummage around inside of it and take out a red and white checked blanket. She shakes it out and then spreads it out neatly beneath the tree’s shade. He watches her sink down onto it and lean against the tree trunk. Slowly he copies but he keeps what he feels is a safe distance from her. She turns her head and watches but she doesn’t say anything. He’s looking across the river and she watches as a drift of a breeze picks at his hair. He seems so remote, so far away.

“Mitchell…” He turns his head and she’s right there in his personal space but at the same time she’s careful not to touch him. She glances down and she places a careful hand on his thigh and she feels the muscle tense beneath her fingertips. She doesn’t remove it but instead lifts her head to look at him. “Did I do something wrong last night?” she asks in a quiet, serious voice. His mouth drops open and he rips his sunglasses off and he looks at her.

“What? No!” he exclaims.

“It’s just that you’ve barely said ten words since we met up this afternoon and I wondered whether…”

“Shannon, please believe me, you’ve done _nothing_ wrong.” His tone becomes briefly vehement and then he sighs raggedly. “I’m a moody sod at the best of times, I’m used to my own company, I’m not one for grand conversations or the like and I’m sorry that it comes across like that but it’s the way I am,” he explains. He seeks out her gaze and smiles gently. “I’m sorry. I’m new at all of this that’s all and sometimes I find that I don’t know what to say to you that doesn’t make me sound like a complete and utter eejit.” He shrugs.

Her eyes widen with surprise.

“Mitchell you don’t need to impress me, you need time. This thing that you say you just got out of, it must’ve been intense,” she replies and he looks at her for a long, long moment.

_She has no idea of how intense it was, of how intense it continues to be._

“Yeah, it was but it doesn’t mean that I’m not interested in you, of course I am, you’re gorgeous, it’s just me.” He lifts her hand from his thigh and he holds it between both of his. She leans towards him and the kiss that she bestows upon him is soft and non-threatening.

“I can be patient,” she tells him with a soft smile of her own. He smiles back at her.

“You shouldn’t have to be, I’m an idiot.” He hears her quiet laugh.

“No you’re not,” she chuckles and his smile widens.

“Oh am I not?” She shakes her head.

“No you’re not. You’re different but you’re definitely no idiot,” she tells him. He regards her steadily.

_Oh if only you knew what I really was. If you saw me as I was for that brief moment in the shadows of the hall, how close I came to letting go, you’d run away screaming for mercy._

“I like you Mitchell, let’s just see where this all goes yeah? We could discover all sorts of great things, have a load of things in common.” She touches his face, smooths her hand against his cheek and he catches a drift of sweet perfume.

“Okay,” he whispers. Her hand stills on his cheek and she carefully, cautiously lowers her head and kisses him again. His eyes slip closed at the feel of her lips and his hands reach for her and touch her. He feels her warmth. He waits for the darker side of him begin to struggle for dominance and he feels him stir faintly. He forces him back down. He can do this; he can really do this if he wants to.

He wants to.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The getting to know you part continues....

**Chapter Eight:**

“Whereabouts in Ireland are you from?”

He looks down at her. Her head feels heavy against his thigh; her glorious red hair is spread out like a carpet across his jeans, touching the blanket they’re both occupying. He resists the urge to discover whether it’s as silky as it looks.

“Why do you want to know?” he asks.

“It’s called finding out stuff about each other Mitchell, you already know I’m from London so what about you?”

He sighs. “Dublin but it’s been a long time since I was there.”

“How long?”

He looks down again. In truth? Eighty- three years, his last leave was a month or so before his change. His mam had wanted to celebrate his birthday during that final time as he’d be back in France for the actual day itself. She’d baked a cake and everything. He sighs loudly and ignores the sharp twinge in his chest at the memory of his mother.

“A while, I left the first opportunity I got and haven’t gone back, I don’t particularly want to,” he answers.

“Ah yes, the job opportunities…”

He frowns at her for a moment, puzzled. “What?”

“You left Ireland for job opportunities.”

He looks at her blankly for brief second before his brain catches up. "Oh…sure, yeah the job opportunities,” he scrambles. He doesn’t see her mild frown. “I’ve been away for so long that sometimes I just forget,” he tacks on.

“How old are you? Twenty five tops?”

He does a quick calculation in his head. Actually in truth he’s over a century in age. Wouldn’t she love to know that one? The thought of her reaction teases the faintest of smiles. The phrase ‘looking good for his age’ is kind of apt considering…

“Something like that,” he answers instead.

“So… any brothers or sisters?” she asks instead.

“I’m an only child.”

“That makes sense.”

He frowns at her in puzzlement. “It does?” He watches as she picks up his sunglasses from the blanket beside his leg and slips them on. They’re slightly too big for her face but they suit her in a weird kind of way. Slowly she sits up and she looks at him.

“I can sense it about you, you’re very solitary. You’ve been at the hospital for a little while and I think I’ve seen you talk to…three other porters?”

“And what has that to do with how many brothers and sisters I may or may not have?” he enquires curiously.

“I’ve already told you, it’s a vibe that I can sense about you.”

“Okay Mystic Meg but what about you?” She looks into his eyes and he can see his reflection in the lens.

“I wouldn’t have a clue, I grew up in care,” she replies and he blinks in shock.

“Really?” She just nods.

“And is that why you became a nurse?”

She shrugs restlessly. “Maybe or it could be that it’s something I’m good at and enjoy doing plus I don’t pass out when I see blood or gore which also helps,”

“I thought nursing was a vocation?”

She looks at him. “And it is, and so is being a nun and I suppose so is teaching. I like what I do but the long shifts play hell with my social life.” Her responding grin is quick and takes him by surprise.

“It’s an amazing job that you do, you save lives.”   _As opposed to taking them_ , the accusation whispers loudly in his head. He watches as Shannon’s smile fades and she removes his sunglasses and hands them back to him.

He remembers how hard the nurses worked in France, tending to the perilously wounded soldiers that were continually stretchered into the first aid tents. Some of the men were beyond help, tumbling towards that peace of eternal death but being ripped apart both physically and emotionally on the journey but those nurses, under those horrific circumstances got on with it and tried to save every wounded Tommy that crossed their path. Sometimes they succeeded and sometimes they didn’t.

“We try, we don’t always succeed.” Her voice is neutral. He reaches for her hand and he can feel her pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips.

“You’re valued and treasured and you should never forget that.” He keeps his voice low, sincere and a ghost of a smile flitters across her face.

“Maybe you should tell that to those in charge who seem determined to keep us on as minimum a wage as they can manage while working us as hard and as long as possible,” she quips. He regards her helplessly. Her smile disappeared so quickly that he’s at a loss how to make it reappear.

Shannon sighs. “We’ve hit a real downer now haven’t we?” She turns her head and looks out across the river, watching a family of ducks battle against the slow, sluggish current.  She feels his hand on her shoulder and she turns her head and looks at him. He presses a gentle kiss on her mouth. When he draws back, she smiles softly up at him.

* * *

 

Harper had been right about the sugar rush. Jessie stares up at the ceiling and she stretches sleepy muscles into some kind of action. It was close to dawn before she had felt tired enough to actually want to sleep. Actually she isn’t sure whether it was down to an overindulgence of sugar or just thoughts of Harper. Despite their tense words at the end of their night, she’d actually enjoyed spending time with him, listening to him talk about his life as a vampire, a non-feeding vampire at that, what is that all about? She sits up and her hair tumbles untidily around her shoulders. She scratches her head and swings her legs around.

She wonders what Eleanor has planned for her today and if she can get out of it.

* * *

 

Eleanor watches Jessica carefully. She was missing most of last night. No one had been able to find her and for a horrible few hours she’d begun to think that she’d run away or worse still someone had ended her. She’d heard the front door open in the wee small hours and it had taken all that she possessed not to get out of bed and confront her and demand to know where she’d been. Her withdrawal has been subtle but Eleanor is aware of it and she resolves to keep a closer eye on her.

She doesn’t make life easy but she has to be careful. She has to play it quietly and cleverly; to tighten the leash and she’ll rebel against it and possibly leave never to return and if she gives her too much leeway then she could have a repeat of seventy-five years ago and hell will freeze over before she’ll allow that to happen again.

* * *

 

Jessie isn’t stupid; she knows that Jimmy is following her on Eleanor’s orders. She smiles to herself. It won’t be that difficult to give him the slip.

She wonders whether he’ll admit to Eleanor that he lost her or make up some grand story instead. The smile widens to a grin.

She makes a show of window shopping, of drifting through the women’s clothing stores and perusing through the racks of clothing all the while keeping Jimmy in the corner of her eye. He looks uncomfortable to be surrounded by so much feminine frippery, it serves him right. She turns her head when she hears a sharp hissing noise and her eyes widen when she sees Harper standing by an emergency exit, partially hidden by the clothes racked up there. He smiles and holds out a hand. At the same time an alarm goes off and Jimmy turns his head away. This is her opportunity and giggling she runs to him, taking his hand. He pushes the emergency exit door wide open which triggers another alarm but before Jimmy could see what is going on, Jessie has vanished.

They quickly get lost in the Saturday afternoon crowds.

“How did you know where I’d be?” she asks looking at him. He looks at her and he grins.

“I said that I’d be nearby and you wouldn’t be able to see me didn’t I?” he answers.

“You’re a regular mystery man. So where are we going?”

He tightens his hold on her hand very slightly. “How about back to my place?” he suggests and she pauses and regards him, a frown beginning to form and he rolls his eyes.

“Oh please, relax why don’t you? I’m not planning on ravishing you or anything…at least not _yet_.” He grins wickedly at her. “I want to show you where I live when I’m in the city. It has a big garden and I thought we could sit under the tree and talk and I could draw you.” He watches the icicles thaw from her expression and she rolls her eyes and she chuckles.

“You’re ridiculous do you know that?”

“I have been accused of that once or twice before yes and I have been known to be a little bit slightly odd at times too. So will you come with me? It’s a short car journey away, half an hour tops,” he invites. It’s very tempting and she’d love to see where he rests his head at night.

“If at any time you feel uncomfortable, I’ll be happy to call you a cab,” he promises. She sighs in a deliberately exaggerated manner.

“Okay, I’ll come with you,” she agrees and his grin returns.

“Excellent, my car isn’t far away.” He takes her hand once more and they get lost in the crowds again.

* * *

 

Mitchell helps her to clear their picnic away. It’s been a pleasant afternoon all things considered. He’s enjoyed the peace and quiet, listening to the breeze rifle through the trees, the sound of bird song, and the warmth of the sun. They’re all such simple pleasures but he sees them through different eyes now. The sun may scratch at his skin in the hotter summer months but here he’s okay, he’s chilled for now and he’s happy.  The old Mitchell would just laugh at all of this and call him boring. He’d be looking for his next opportunity, his next chance to charm, to overwhelm and to obliterate. He turns his head when he feels a pressure against his shoulder and smiles at her. He slides his arm around her and holds her close.

* * *

 

She can’t help it, she’s impressed. Harper’s car turns up a short drive and she has her first vision of his home, the one he occupies when he’s in town. He parks the car outside of a white painted garage door and switches off the engine. Slowly Jessie turns so that she can look at him and she frowns at him. Harper regards her and his eyes go round at her continuing silence.

“What?” he asks.

“I thought you said the last time you were in Bristol was fifty years ago? This car certainly isn’t that old!” she accuses. He sighs quietly.

“It’s been fifty years since I was last at that coffee bar, that’s what I meant. It’s been a while since I was last in the city but it doesn’t mean that the properties that I own go to rack and ruin. I visit from time to time, pay flying visits once in a while and have tenants in other properties but not this one, this one is my favourite.” He looks to the rose-red bricked detached house and a slight smile lifts the corner of his mouth.

“Why?”

He looks at her again.

“It just is. The light here is tremendous, perfect for when I’m in the mood to be creative,” he confides. Jessie slowly smiles.

“Creative?”

“I draw, I paint. I wasn’t joking when I said that I wanted to draw you, you are just exquisite, but only with your permission of course.” He gets out of the car, hurries around the front and opens her door and he gives a comical little bow as she exits. He slams the door closed. Jessie lifts her head and she takes in the tall building, at the white framed windows, the lace curtains hiding the interior from view. The property is set in its own grounds and bordered by a high red bricked wall. It’s very private and also rather peaceful. She turns back at him as a thought occurs to him.

“You said properties. You own more than one?” she enquires curiously and he smiles.

“I was wondering when you’d get to that. Yes, several as it happens. When you get to my age you get to accumulate quite the portfolio. I have several in Bristol and surrounding areas,” he answers.

“Careful Jude, revealing all of this information to me like this, I could be greedy, I could shove a stake through your heart and just move in,” she teases but there’s a hint of steel beneath her words, a challenge.

“Ah what a lovely thought sweet pea but you won’t,” he tells her with a smile and a chiding look. He sighs loudly and takes her hand. “Come on, this way.” He heads for the front door. She stands beside him as he takes a set of keys out of his jacket pocket and he sorts through them. Jessie’s blue eyes scan the front of the house, the pink and white rose bush that climbs prettily up an ancient looking trellis. She can smell the sweetness of their perfume. They curl around a sign that is fastened to the wall and she blinks as she reads it. Harper turns his head and he sees her mild frown and he glances at the sign. He chuckles.

“Oh that. Don’t take any notice of it but it’s rather amusing isn’t it?” He slots a key into the lock of the front door and he gives it a firm twist.

“Is that for real?” she asks, pointing to the name plate and he looks at her again.

“Oh yes. This place used to be a vicarage. Deliciously ironic don’t you think?” He gives the front door a firm push and it swings open. He glances at her again over one shoulder.

“Come inside,” he invites. She steps over the threshold.

She steps into a lobby area with high ceilings. She looks up and sees the stained glass dome above her head and her eyes widen.

“I thought you said this place was a Vicarage?” she breathes. Harper flashes her a grin as he shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up.

“It used to be; it hasn’t been one for over fifty years now. I’ve remodelled and updated here and there.” He lifts his eyes heavenwards at the dome. “Impressive isn’t it? It catches everyone’s attention. Come along, this way.” She follows him through, past a variety of white painted doors that hide a variety of rooms. He seems determined to be somewhere so she follows him.

She pauses at the entrance of a large conservatory that seems to be built onto the back of the house. It’s not one of those modern designs that properties these days seem to favour but older and infinitely more charming. She sees seating, wrought iron tables as well as pot plants and other varieties of shrubbery arranged here and there, a black and white tiled floor. It’s an explosion of colour and perfume. In the midst of all of this there is a collection of easels, paints, white spirits, brushes and canvases in various stages of completion. It’s slightly overwhelming and also just a little bit wonderful. Curiosity tugs at her and she takes a tentative step inside. Harper opens a set of double doors which reveal a huge lawn in front of him. She picks her way cautiously across the conservatory and follows him out into the garden. She pauses and looks up at the flawless blue sky and feels the warm breeze caress her skin. She listens. All that she can hear is the sound of the breeze tickling the leaves on the rather spectacular tree in the garden. Harper stands beneath it and he smiles at her.

“You like it don’t you? I can tell by the look on your face!” he announces and he grins. Jessie deliberately schools her face into an expression of nonchalance as she walks towards him. She fakes a casual shrug.

“It’s alright I suppose,” she informs him but that smile of his does not fade.

“Oh I know you think it’s more than alright sweet pea,” he chuckles. She glances at him and it’s a struggle not to grin.

“So what are we going to do here?” she enquires and once more he looks at her.

“What do you want to do?” he replies but she just shrugs. The tranquillity of her surroundings is threatening to suck her under.

“How about I show you around this place?” he suggests.

He does this and she’s surprised to discover that the house is much bigger than it looks. It’s on three floors with several bedrooms of different sizes. The décor is an eclectic mix of past and present but it all works remarkably well together.

* * *

 

They’re seated in the cluttered conservatory and Jessie is curious about the paintings that he has dotted around. They’re on easels and in varying stages of completion and she’d love to look at them but Harper is seated across from her, one leg crossed over the other, a sketch pad balanced on one knee and he’s working furiously with a deep frown on his face.

“You can look at them later,” he tells her, his voice low and distracted and she returns her attention to him. He’s staring at the sketch pad, the pencil in his hand flying over the paper.

“How…” He looks up through his eyebrows at her.

“I can all but hear your curiosity and I’ll allow you to look at them later,” he replies mildly. He sees the slight pout of those beautiful lips. Yet again he rues the tragedy of her vampirism because she has a natural beauty about her that a camera would adore.

“So, is this what you do? Paint?” she asks him, flinging an arm towards the easels. Cutler slowly nods.

“Yep, this is what I do,” he answers slowly.

“Always?”

“Always,” he confirms and he glances at her. “Lift your head please and look towards the garden, that’s it. Perfect.” He smiles at her as she does as he requests.

“You made your fortune from it?” she prods. He straightens in his seat and regards her.

“Amongst other things. When you get to my age sweet pea you learn to recognise what is worth investing in and what isn’t. For example, painting and being successful at it meant that I was popular, I was paid well and it allowed me to invest in a variety of projects, property being one of them. I’ve survived a few crashes but profited handsomely during the booms.” He flashes another smile at her.

“Why haven’t I heard of you then?” she demands none too politely and rather than be offended, Harper grins some more.

“Oh you won’t have heard of Jude Harper but if I told you some of my other names, you wouldn’t believe me. Some of my paintings are exhibited in the most amazing places,” he confides. She stares at him.

“Such as?”

“Now that would be telling,” he replies mysteriously.

* * *

 

The temperature begins to drop a little as the afternoon wears on. Mitchell has been happy to sit with Shannon beneath the shade of the Weeping Willow tree. There hasn’t been much in the way of conversation and if he’s to be truthful, he’s preferred it that way. He tries to be honest in answering her questions and he accepts that there are bound to be many but he’s discovered that evasion and vagueness are his friends. He’s good at both and it is much _much_ easier than telling the truth.

_I’m over a hundred years old and I’m a vampire._ Even to his own experienced ears the confession sounds faintly ridiculous.

“So what have you got planned for this evening?” Mitchell enquires as he helps Shannon to her feet. He waits as she straightens her clothing and then picks up her bag. She looks at him.

“Not a lot. Pizza, television, wine, the usual Saturday night fare,” she answers. They begin to walk out of the park.

“Sounds exciting.”

 She flashes a smile at him. “Oh you have no idea,” she laughs. She links her arm through his and he glances as her.

“You could join me if you like. We could order a pizza, get a couple of bottles of wine from the off license, really push the boat out.” She briefly rests her head against his shoulder and he hears her chuckle of amusement and it makes him smile.

“There might even be something good on the telly,” he adds and she lifts her head and she looks at him, her eyes widening very slightly.

“So you will?” She sounds surprised and he doesn’t blame her after his speech of the previous night, about wanting to take things slow.

“Yeah, sure, why not?” The alternative is spending the rest of the night alone in his dump of a flat and that will be spent pacing the floor and trying to not think about going out and hunting. At least this evening he’ll have some company, some form of distraction even if it is getting pissed on some corner shop wine and sharing a pizza. It’s better than the alternative.

* * *

 

He watches as she pays for the wine and slides the bottles into her shopping bag. They step back onto the street and the air is still summer warm.

“Here.” He pulls the five pound note out of his pocket. She sees it and shakes her head.

“No…you don’t have to.”

“Yes I do. You sorted out lunch earlier.” He pushes it towards her and once more she shakes her head.

“It’s really okay,” she tells him and he sighs in frustration.

“It isn’t. Please Shannon, I’d feel better if you just take it.”

She pauses and sighs. She glances at it and then back up at him.

“Tell you what, if it makes you feel better, how about you pay for the pizza, that would make it about even wouldn’t it?” His fist tightens around the note and his own sigh is quiet.

It wouldn’t even come close but she doesn’t know that. Instead he just nods.

“Fine, but I won’t forget.”

She sends him a slightly amused smile. “I wouldn’t expect you to Mitchell,” she tells him.

* * *

 

He follows her into the building and up the stairs to her flat. He feels the nerves prickle along his spine as they pause outside of her front door. They’re friends; they’re sharing wine and pizza, what is the harm in that?

Well apart from the fact that he likes her far more than he should and that he has problems separating relationships and who he is.

Maybe it won’t be an issue.

_Oh hey, look at that, a flying pig._

He watches her unlock her front door and open it. He hovers on the threshold as she goes inside. He leans against the doorjamb and he racks his brain to think of something that he could say about not being able to enter uninvited without sounding like a complete and utter knob. The door opens straight into a small living room. He watches her drop her keys onto a coffee table. She turns and frowns at him.

“What’s the matter?” she enquires and he racks his brain for that all important excuse.

“Come on in Mitchell, I won’t bite I promise, or at least not too hard.” She dimples a cheeky smile at him and the relief is rapid. He straightens up and crosses the threshold.

* * *

 

Fucking hell will he _ever_ learn?

She’s lying on the bed and she’s motionless. Her skin is pale in the dawn light, draped by a sheet. He picks up his jeans and slides them on, zipping them up. His shirt is somewhere, he’ll find it.

He uses the bathroom and runs the tap, sluicing still cold water over his face. He feels the rasp of several days old stubble beneath his fingertips. He looks down at his hands, seeing how they tremor very slightly. He squeezes them into tight fists and sighs quietly.

He leaves.


	9. Chapter Nine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a bit...prickly.

**Chapter Nine:**

He walks into the kitchen. Everything is white; the cupboards, the walls and the floor but there are bold bright splashes of colour here and there to brighten it up. She does seem to like her primary colours. He sees the empty wine bottle beside the sink; it's companion is on the coffee table beside an empty pizza box and two glasses.

He stands in the centre of the small square kitchen and stares blindly at the window. Outside everything is tinted a pearly grey and pink. He walks towards it and just watches for a moment. In the street below nothing moves, nothing even breathes. After a moment he sighs and relaxes his shoulders. So much for waiting, so much for taking his time.

 He turns and flinches when he sees her standing in the doorway.

She’s wearing his shirt and nothing else. The hem just covers, if he remembers correctly, her very nice arse.

“I thought you’d done a bunk,” she murmurs as she walks towards him.

“How could I do that when you’re wearing my shirt?” he responds with a slight smile. She pauses in front of him. Her answering smile is equally coy. It’s loosely buttoned and falling off one shoulder and with one finger, he touches warm exposed skin and he sees the purple rose tattoo that his previous explorations had revealed. It graces the top of her arm and is completely incongruous and unexpected. It suits her in some strange kind of way.

She looks into his slumberous brown eyes and feels a shiver course through her at the feel of his finger caressing the exposed skin.

“When did you get this?” His finger stills on the open purple rose that marks her skin and she’s so lost in the sensations that he’s creating that she almost doesn’t hear him.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asks with a blink. His finger stops its hypnotic movement.

“The tattoo.”

She glances at it, partially exposed by his shirt. “Oh that. Call it part of my misspent youth; I was eighteen when I got it,” she answers.

“It’s nice, a surprise.”  

She tips her head back a little and looks at him. “Don’t I look like the type to get a tattoo then?” she enquires demurely and his eyes flick to hers. Mutely he shakes his head.

“I like it,” he murmurs and lowers his head and presses a single kiss on her mouth. Her hands come up and rest on his chest and after a moment, she takes a definite step back. She looks up at him with slightly dazed eyes.

“Don’t,” she tells him in a low voice and he frowns at her.

“Don’t what?” He watches as she turns her back on him, she walks to the counter and clicks the kettle on. She looks at him over one shoulder.

“You’re…gorgeous…and very good at…what you do but at the same time you’re just…” She shakes her head “You’re too much.”

He frowns at her and he’s completely confused. “But…” He takes a step towards her but halts as her hand comes up.

“I know, I know. The other night I came across as a sex starved slapper desperate for a shag and you were such a gentleman about it and then last night after a couple of bottles of wine…” Her words falter. She shakes her head once more. “You’re just… too… much,” she whispers. Mitchell regards her steadily. He’s been called a lot of things in the past, most of it much worse than what she’s said but to be called too much has to be a first.

“I like you Shannon…”

“And I like you too Mitchell,” she quickly responds and he frowns.

“Then what is the problem?”

He waits.

She slowly turns to look at him. He’s standing in the middle of her kitchen and all he is wearing is a pair of jeans. That’s it, his feet are bare, his chest is bare and she feels the longing rise brutally inside of her. He’s been holding out on her, that body beneath those shapeless blue scrubs that he has to wear at work is a revelation. His shoulders are just as broad as she’d imagined, his hips are narrow and there isn’t an ounce of excess flesh on his frame but there is something about him that she can’t quite pin down.

 “Maybe it’s just me,” she confesses with a shrug.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks. She looks at him and she makes herself smile. It feels weak and unsure and she’s positive that he can see through it.  She turns her back on him again as she busies herself with the task of making them both a cup of tea. She doesn’t hear him approach her.

“Shannon.”

He reaches for her, gently grasping her forearm and she gasps, her eyes flying to his face once more.

That was the problem, everything that he’d done had been exactly right and it scares her just a little bit.

“I thought we had an…understanding. I _thought_ …” He lets go of her.

“Jesus Mitchell, it was nice alright but I’m not your wife!” she interrupts irritably and he blinks. She drops the teaspoon into one of the cups with a loud clatter and he watches her stride away.

If he lives to be two hundred years old, he will _never_ understand women!

* * *

 

He waits and counts slowly to ten at the same time taking slow, deep breaths. The only sound in the kitchen is the loud hissing and bubbling of the kettle as it boils. He straightens and he goes after her.

Her bedroom door is closed and he doesn’t wait for an invitation.

She’s in the process of taking off his shirt. He sees her spin around and he hears her gasp once more as her arms come up to cross over her chest.

“I’m too _much_?” he demands striding towards her and her eyes go even wider.

“Mitchell…” He stops in front of her. He can hear her heart pounding in her chest.

“How am I too much exactly, what is it that I did that made you think that?” he demands in a low rough voice. She stares at him but doesn’t reply.

“Do I scare you Shannon?” he asks in a lower voice. He’s careful to maintain a safe distance but he’s so confused. They’ve had a wonderful weekend so far so what has happened for her to react like this?

“No you don’t,” she replies as she lifts her chin and faces him head on.

He smiles very softly. “Liar,” he whispers. He turns his head and sees his discarded shirt on the tumbled bed.

_He managed to maintain control. He managed to push down that darker side of him even though it had fought viciously for supremacy. He’d succeeded in the unthinkable. He had been able to separate the idea of equating sex with blood, this time at least. It was a revelation. The sex had been a revelation._

He looks back at her. Her eyes are still wide, they look huge in her face and despite what she claims, he knows that he has scared her. He quietly sighs.

“It was too fast…we’d agreed to get to know each other…yesterday we had that conversation and now, a couple of bottles of wine and it was like it meant absolutely nothing. Jesus Mitchell you can go from zero to intense…really… _really_ quickly. I weakened, I couldn’t resist you so like I said, you were too much...for me,” she admits. He watches the colour come and go in her face and he turns his head away. He sees the pale pink cotton dressing down that is hooked on the bottom of her bed and he goes to it and picks it up. Slowly he approaches her and holds it out to her. After a moment she accepts it and slowly, awkwardly slips it on.

“We were drunk Shannon, you shouldn’t beat yourself up over that.”

“Whatever the reason Mitchell, I should’ve had a little bit more self-control,” she replies tartly. He reaches for his shirt and he pulls it on. He can smell her on it. He remembers again.

“It’s not the dark ages.  We went out, we shared a couple of bottles of wine,” _I didn’t kill you_ “You didn’t force me against my will or anything and it was nice, at least I thought it was nice.” He shrugs casually. _I didn’t rip your throat out. I didn’t bathe in your blood._ “We got drunk and we had sex, pretty…great… sex actually but it happened.” He waits and sees the faint smile that crosses her face and he knows that she’s remembering too. She sneaks a glance at him.

“It was,” she agrees in a low voice. She sighs loudly and pulls her fingers through tousled red hair.

“Christ, let’s just agree that I’m an idiot and for that I apologise. We’ll just leave it at that. I react first and I think later and it’s a bad habit of mine that I need to stamp out.” Her smile is rueful.

“You’re not an idiot Shannon and it’s okay,” he responds. He recognises that trait far too well; he’s been accused of it himself more than once in his long life. She goes towards him and she reaches for his hand.

“The least I can do is make you some breakfast as way of an apology.” She slides another look up at his face and the expression is shy and also hopeful. He smiles, feeling mild relief flood through him. He nods.

“That would be nice, thanks.”

* * *

 

 He slaps the sketchpad shut and drops it noisily onto the wrought iron table that separates them.

“Don’t I get the chance to see it?” Jessie enquires and he flicks a glance at her. He shakes his head as he places the pencil beside it.

“Not yet, it’s not finished,” he replies.

She sighs. “How about you just show me what you’ve done so far?” she suggests and he frowns.

“That’s not how I work, you’ll see it when it’s finished and not before.”

She turns her head and looks at the easels. She stands up and stretches cramped muscles before she moves towards them. Harper doesn’t move from his seat but he watches her carefully.

“Do you still paint on commission?” she asks as she moves slowly between the easels. He watches how she pauses in front of each canvas and leans forward to examine the subject more closely.

“I get the odd one, mostly within the vampire community. Not being able to be captured on camera can be a pain in the arse, especially if you’re vain.” His tone becomes whimsical as he stands up. He goes to stand beside her and he turns his attention to the picture she’s examining.

“Who’s that?” Harper stares at it for a moment. The subject is a tall thin man with long flowing silvery blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He’s used colour sparingly, mostly just to highlight here and there. It’s quite effective, there is something cold, ethereal about him which is unusual because for a vampire he was anything but, but it suits him.

“That’s Matthew.” He glances at her and flashes a quick smile at her before he looks back at the painting. He has many sketches of Matthew, but he’s never been able to commit him to canvas until now.

“Your sire Matthew?” she breathes and Harper’s nod is sharp.

“The one and the same,” he confirms. He can almost feel Jessie’s curiosity burning off her.

“What happened to him?” Her voice is soft. He refrains from the urge to look at her again.

“He died…I mean he was… _ended_. There was a disagreement and that was that.” His mouth tightens as he remembers.

_He remembers the jolt of shock that coursed through him as he witnessed the heavy thick stake being rammed through his sire’s ribcage. He remembers ice cold bemused blue eyes. He remembers running to catch Matthew as he crumpled to the ground. He will never forget the kindness and love in his eyes as he faded to dust in his arms._

_He remembers looking up into those bemused eyes, seeing that gloved hand held out in front of him, the invitation clear and expected. His refusal had shocked him. They haven’t crossed paths since but they are aware of each other all the same._

“How and who by?” This time he does look at her.

“It doesn’t matter, it happened and I can’t change it.” He then sighs loudly and moves away from the easel, the sombre moment broken. “Are you hungry? I’m _starving_!” He wags a finger at her as he recognises the glint in her eyes.

“Not that kind of starving sweet pea, the food kind of starving. Want some dinner?” He strides across the conservatory and into the kitchen. She has no option but to follow.

* * *

 

It’s dark outside by the time Harper pours the last of the wine into Jessie’s glass. Dinner has been a success; they’ve shared a meal that he has prepared and cooked for them both.

She feels herself being won over by his unique brand of charm. He’s very easy going, he can be distracted, he makes her laugh but she senses a will of iron beneath his charisma. He hasn’t lived for over half a millennium on that allure alone but the warmth of his personality unsettles her. She’s used to the cool control of Eleanor and her fellow vampires.

He has set the table with candles and flowers. Jessie stares at the guttering flame for a moment.

“What’s on your mind sweet pea?” Harper enquires as he takes a sip of his wine and her eyes lift to his face, shadowy in the flickering light.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” she enquires. She wants to sound arch, acidic, in control but instead it comes out almost wistful. Slowly he replaces the glass on the table.

“Don’t you like it? I think it suits you.” He regards her. “I’ll stop if you want me to but I like it and would rather not.”

She looks down at her hands. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Her voice is low. She looks up when she hears him sigh.

“It’s getting late and I suppose I better get you back to your mummy before she sends out a search party.”

“She’s not my mother.”

“Isn’t she? You could have fooled me. I remember how she was with Lily, it was most disturbing how she clung to that girl and she paid the price for it. She’ll be determined not to make that mistake with you.” Jessie looks at him and she frowns.

“You knew Lily?” Harper slowly shrugs and he stares into his wineglass for a moment.

“Not personally you understand, she had a type and I wasn’t it. She liked them dark, gypsy looking and Irish, I’m none of those. No, for a time we moved in the same circles, kind of.” He looks at her. “She was quite the girl,” he muses. The moment stretches between them and Jessie feels a frisson of jealousy snake around her heart.

“Eleanor doesn’t control me. Nobody controls me,” she hisses at him and he raises an eyebrow in response.

“So if you decided to then you’d walk away from her tomorrow without a backward glance?”  Her silence is telling. “Lily was far too headstrong for Eleanor and she was wise to her controlling, manipulative ways, why do you think she went after Mitchell?”

“Mitchell killed her.”

 Harper shrugs lazily. “So he did. Lily thought she could lead him around by the… nose. She realised that she couldn’t to her detriment. Eleanor used to pimp Lily out, used her exceptional beauty for her own purposes, for her own advantages. If there’s one thing I know about Eleanor Brennan, it’s that she doesn’t make the same mistake twice.” He watches Jessie carefully. He leans forwards. “You pretend to be worldly-wise and sophisticated Jessie but I see you behind those weary eyes, I see the girl you were, traces of the woman you’d hoped to become. Eleanor wants to crush that to achieve her own goal, an endgame that involves John Mitchell that she has dragged you into and poisoned you against.” He waits. “He’s not your fight sweetheart,” he whispers.  He watches how she stiffens in her seat. Her face becomes a beautiful mask and she drops the linen napkin that has graced her lap onto the table. He doesn’t move as she gets to her feet.

“I have to go now.” He sees tears shimmering in her eyes and he regards her for another moment. Slowly he stands up, dropping his own napkin onto the table.

“Fine, I’ll drive you,” he tells her.

“No. I’d rather you didn’t,” she answers stiffly and he gives pause.

“It’s dark Jessie; I’d like to see you safely home.”

“Oh please Jude, who’s going to take advantage of me? Anyone out there who fancies their chances with me will get the surprise of their life!” she sneers at him. She skirts around the table, intent on leaving with as much pride intact as possible. He reaches for her, captures her by her upper arms and holds on tightly as she tries to push him away.

“Jessie, I’ve upset you and it wasn’t my intention but you know that I’m right. In your heart you know. Just know that you have a place here, you are always welcome here. You’ll be safe and you’ll be respected.” His voice is low. He lets go of her. He takes a step back and watches her leave.

* * *

 

Once outside she begins to run and she pretends not to notice the tears tumbling down her face as she flees.

She slows as she reaches the outer limits of the city centre and the breath heaves in her lungs. The tears have dried to salty traces on her cheeks but she wipes at them anyway.

Damn him. He always has to poke and prod. He thinks he’s being clever and subtle but he isn’t. She’s not going to listen to him because he’s an Old One. She knows that’s what Eleanor is, she’s not entirely sure of her age but she does know that she’s over four hundred years old, apparently that’s the magic age to achieve.  Edgar Wyndam is allegedly twice over that and the most powerful one of them all if the stories are to be believed. Harper alternatively fascinates and annoys her. There’s also something else underneath it all but she’s not ready to identify it, not yet.

She sees him ahead of her. He’s alone and judging by his halting, stumbling gait, has had quite the skin full. She quickens her pace as her nascent senses begin to sharpen and anticipation begins to flow through her. The age old draw of the hunt. She smiles to herself as the previous drama with Harper leaves her mind. She’s hungry, she hasn’t fed at all today and she realises that she’s starving. As she gets close to him, her eyes flood black.

She lets him drop to the ground, hidden from immediate view by large overflowing square plastic dumpsters. They’re behind a pizza place, he’d been so idiotically easy to lure away. The promise of a quick shag and he’d been putty in her hands. His senses were dulled by the copious amount of alcohol he’d consumed; he had reeked of it, it oozed out of his pores almost making her gag. By the time he’d realised her true intention, it was far too late and his fight back was weak and inconsequential.

She stares down at him, crumpled at her feet like yesterday’s rubbish. She sees the puncture marks in his neck and she watches his blood flow and pool around him and the scent of it still tickles her senses.

She waits for the energy, the satisfaction to flow through her as it always does after a kill but it doesn’t arrive. Instead she feels cold and empty and it alarms her slightly.  She wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand and she looks at the smear of blood left behind. Nothing, there is absolutely nothing there and the realisation makes her gasp and she wipes the hand against the side of her leg. She steps over his body and she hurries out of the alley.

She’s feeling nauseous as she lets herself into the house. She closes the door quietly behind her and she turns and starts violently when she sees Eleanor standing by the living room door.

“Jessica.” Her tone is chilly, disapproving and Jessie looks away.

“This way please” she instructs and turns and goes into the living room. Jessie sighs and her shoulders sag. She really doesn’t want to do this, she wants to go to her room, she wants to sleep and she just wants to forget.

She’s a good girl at heart, she mustn’t forget that. Eleanor has told her that countless times before. She pauses and looks to the staircase. The longing to just disappear rises defiantly inside of her. She looks back to the living room and she knows that she’s waiting for her.

Time to face the music.


	10. Chapter Ten.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to face the music...

**Chapter Ten:**

Slowly she walks into the living room, feeling almost condemned. She really isn’t in the mood for one of Eleanor’s lectures but it’s unavoidable, she has been gone for most of the day. She must face the sermon that is sure to follow.

She sees Eleanor standing in front of the fireplace and Jimmy is seated on the sofa beside her. Jessie rolls her eyes and she knows what this is about.

“Been telling tales again have we Jimmy?” she drawls instead as she strolls into the living room.

“Sit down,” Eleanor instructs her. Jessie folds her arms and regards her and she affects a bored expression.

“I’d rather stand. I hope this isn’t going to take long because I’m knackered, been a long day.” She watches how Eleanor’s eyes narrow as she regards her.

“I’d like to know where you’ve been Jessica,” she enquires in crisp, precise tones.

“I’ve been out, didn’t Jimmy tell you?” Jessie replies. She then looks at him again and she deliberately widens her eyes as if a thought occurs to her and then it softens to a sly smile. “Couldn’t you find me then Jimmy?” she drawls. The other vampire scowls at her.

“You’ve been missing all afternoon and most of the evening, I need to know where you’ve been,” Eleanor interrupts impatiently and Jessie turns her head very slightly to stare at her.

“Why? I didn’t realise that I had to account for every moment of my day to you,” she answers in a chilly voice. She sees how her eyes narrow very slightly.

“And you don’t but you went completely off the radar. I was worried that you were stalking Mitchell again,” she glances back at Jimmy “but we know that you weren’t.” There’s a self-satisfied gleam in her pale blue eyes.

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Oh don’t I? I’ve had John Mitchell under observation for most of today. You were so quiet and secretive earlier that I thought you were going to ignore my explicit instructions to leave him alone so I know you didn’t go anywhere near him. You did your disappearing act in the middle of Marks and Spencer’s.” Her voice is clinical.

“One minute you were there then alarms went off and you were gone. Very clever, I underestimated you today.” Is it Jessie’s imagination or is there a smidgen of admiration in her voice? Instead Eleanor takes a breath.

“I won’t ask you who you were with because you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” Her confidence rankles with Jessie and she frowns; she doesn’t appreciate being spoken to as if she’s a child. Memories of posing for Harper, of their dinner and sharing a grown up bottle of wine together flash through her mind. She clings to it with single-minded determination.

“It’s of no importance. I learned something of great interest earlier today. Don’t you want to know what it was?” she waits and after a long moment, Jessie finally nods. Eleanor’s smile is slow almost triumphant and despite herself, Jessie is curious. She watches as she slowly approaches her and then pauses just in front of her.

“Mitchell seems to have found himself a companion, a human nonetheless. That’s who he spent most of this afternoon with. He seems quite taken with her.”

“She works at the hospital,” Jessie tells her and Eleanor regards her, her head tilted slightly to the side.

“And how would you know that?” she enquires curiously and Jessie stares at her. She won’t admit to returning to the hospital prior to meeting Harper or to the gig on Friday night, of stalking them there because then she’ll know that she went against her express wishes to keep away from him.  An uncomfortable silence stretches out between them.

“That nurse you tried to snack on?” Jimmy interrupts and Jessie looks at him. Her nod of affirmation is barely perceptible. Eleanor’s expression sharpens.

“Really? Well it does make sense; he was the one who went to her aid after all. Oh this is _good_.” She smiles again. “I wonder whether she knows what he is yet,” she muses. She turns to look at Jimmy.

“Perhaps she’d appreciate a hint.” Her smile is broad but there isn’t a hint of warmth or affection in it.

“Oliver did say they looked quite charming together. They went back to her flat together with wine and pizza, she might get the shock of her life if things progress.” She laughs and it sounds like shards of tinkling frosted glass. Jessie listens and she watches as Eleanor returns her attention to her.

“Oliver was watching them?” she asks in amazement. Oliver is one of Eleanor’s newer recruits and she watches as her smile evaporates.

“I had planned on asking you but you slipped out and it was all Jimmy could do to keep track of you for what it was worth.”

“You told me to stay away from him,” she retorts.

“And if you’d stuck around and not been in such a hurry to leave the house then you would’ve known that I’d changed my mind. I worry about you sometimes Jessica, you can be so… _wilful_.” The two women stare at each other before Eleanor turns her back on her.

“Go to bed, we’ll talk further in the morning,” she informs her and just like that, she’s dismissed.

* * *

 

Mitchell is more of a night owl and that has nothing to do with him being a proverbial creature of the night. He’s always been like that. It takes him a while to get going in the morning but by the time the sun is high in the sky then he’s more with it, more in control. He feels sharper and more observant by the time night falls. Everything is far more interesting by nightfall.

He watches his colleagues as they slowly change into their scrubs. They all look so knackered, so worn down by their lives. He thinks about Shannon and he’s barely able to bite back a smile. After their misunderstanding yesterday morning, things have thawed and progressed and while there hasn’t been a repeat of earlier, she’s definitely warmed to him being there. She’s on nights this week too and it has been a complete fluke that their shifts have coincided like this. He hopes that he can grab a quick cup of coffee with her sometime through the shift though he knows that it all depends on how busy it gets in accident and emergency. He wants to see her, even if it’s just for five minutes.

* * *

 

Shannon stares at her in stunned mute surprise. Abby lifts hesitant fingers and slowly touches the not quite shoulder length ends.

“Don’t you like it?” she asks her. Her eyes are wide and she’s uncharacteristically anxious. Shannon continues to stare at it. She gives her head a little shake.

“It’s…it’s…I thought you liked being a blonde?” Abby huffs out a sigh and drops her hand to her side.

“I do…I mean I _did_ but I fancied a change…is it too much?”

“It’s red Abby, I didn’t think you’d go for red…but no, it’s not too much, it actually suits you.” She watches the smile of relief blossom on her face. She links her arm as they walk along from their locker room to accident and emergency.

“My hairdresser suggested it, I didn’t want you to think that I was copying you.” Her expression becomes hesitant. Shannon smiles at her.

“Of course not, I’m not the only redhead around these parts and it’s nice, you look _nice._ ” Ahead she sees a door open and her heart gives a traitorous leap when she sees Mitchell emerge, he’s fiddling with his ID badge at the waistband of his scrubs. He lifts his head and sees them. A smile begins to form then quickly disappears and he stares at Abby with slightly startled eyes.

“Hey Mitchell,” Shannon greets and he glances at her as he falls into step with them.

“Hey yourself, just started your shift?” He steals another glance at Abby before fixing his attention on Shannon’s face. She just nods. “Yeah.”

“Me too, see you later?” He doesn’t wait for a reply as he veers off in a different direction. Shannon barely refrains from stopping to watch him. Abby tugs her arm.

“I’m sure he fancies you. Did you get up to anything at the weekend?” Shannon looks at her and ignores the traitorous heat that flares in her cheeks.

“Get up to…like what?” She sounds slightly breathless even though she’s trying to sound cool and casual and failing miserable.

Oh yeah, she’s had a weekend to remember alright but she isn’t ready to divulge any details, not just yet. Abby shrugs.

“I don’t know, anything. It has to be better than my highpoint which was a visit to my hairdressers,” she grumbles.

“Oh I don’t know, how does washing and sleeping sound to you?” She keeps her tone light as they go through the double doors of accident and emergency and into the organised chaos. Abby chuckles as she lets go of her arm.

“Not my idea of a good time, all of a sudden my weekend wasn’t such an abject failure,” she teases and Shannon rolls her eyes and chuckles at the same time.

* * *

 

“Oh good Mitchell there you are, you’re needed in A and E. How quick can you get in there?”

Mitchell pauses and he looks down at the damp floor that he’s just mopped. “Ummm…now if it’s an emergency?” he replies. Charlie Andrews, his supervisor looks harassed and he nods distractedly.

“Yeah, it’s an emergency and it’s all hands on deck. A family of four just rolled in, victims of a stabbing… horrible neck wounds, the place is awash with blood and they need people in there to clean up, it’s bedlam and we’re short staffed. You’re not bothered by the sight of a lot of blood are you?” Mitchell freezes and his brain scrambles for an explanation. He then takes a deep breath and shakes his head quickly. If Charlie has come looking for him then it’s an emergency alright.

“Good man. Just stop what you’re doing here and get down there pronto, it’s a nasty business in there, be warned.”  Mitchell nods again and watches him hurry away. He looks down at his trolley and sighs shakily. He remembers the last time he had been in accident and emergency and become overwhelmed by the sheer volume of blood. He straightens and takes a deep breath. He needs to get over this, to get in there and face this head on.

There is a sense of quiet urgency about the place as Mitchell enters, pushing his cleaning trolley in front of him. The bedlam Charlie has told him about doesn’t seem to be in evidence. His eyes take in his surroundings. There’s no loud laughter or belligerence as befitting an accident and emergency department at this time of the night. He’s used to the noise so this quietness is strange. As he moves further into the area he smells the coppery tang of the blood that he’s been warned about and he pauses as his stomach lurches.

“Oh God,” he whispers and he screws his eyes tightly shut for a moment. The scent of it teases at his darker senses and for a moment he struggles to contain it. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs and he fights for control. He has to be able to do this or it will be his complete undoing. He opens his eyes and looks around. Some of the cubicles are cordoned off and hidden from public view by pale green curtains. The floor beneath them and the trolleys they conceal is slick and red. His hands tighten around the handle of his trolley as he pushes it towards the mess.

Everyone is subdued, pale and shocked and Mitchell frowns. He gets on with the task at hand, cleaning and mopping and trying to breathe through his mouth. It waters at the scent and he makes himself swallow. He empties his mind of the images that the smell evokes. He feels a prickle go up and down his spine and he pauses. Even after close to a century of this life he has an inner sense about trouble and he turns his head. He sees the black uniforms of the local constabulary and he scans their faces and waits for _him_ but he doesn’t appear as he expects him to. They move past him but they don’t look at him, don’t make eye contact. He follows suit and gets back to work. One of the curtains is then drawn back and automatically Mitchell turns his head. He recognises one of the porters and his expression is sombre as he manipulates the trolley heading his way. Mitchell’s eyes go down and he sees the small wrapped shape on top of it. It’s a body, a _child’s_ body. Shock ripples through him and his eyes widen marginally. He stops what he’s doing and everyone else does the same as the trolley is moved out of the department. It looks so tiny and Mitchell surmises that the kid couldn’t have been very old. He slowly swallows and he watches two other trolleys follow the progression of the first one. One of the bodies is larger, the other is small and Mitchell remembers Charlie telling him that a family of four had been brought in. He wonders where the fourth victim is.

It’s then that he hears it, senses it. The change in the air, the ripple of tension and he feels the sense of urgency. There are people seemingly crammed into a cubicle, working on someone. He can barely hear what is being said but this is where the tension is coming from. He watches the police officers as they mill around nearby.  He sees their tense watchful expressions, how tightly their arms are folded around their bodies and how they just watch.

Mitchell straightens as they seem to stop and then take a step away. The atmosphere changes, the police officers seem to sigh and their heads go down to stare at the floor in defeat. He sees the man then, standing beside the trolley. He’s pale and disbelieving in his rumpled pyjamas and dressing gown. He turns his head and sees Mitchell staring at him. His eyes widen with surprise.

“You can see me?” The man advances almost desperately towards him and Mitchell takes a half step back. He can see the blood from the gaping ragged wound in his neck. He glances around quickly but everything is as it should be and it’s only he who can see this spirit approaching him. He swallows and grips the handle of his mop a little bit tighter. His answering nod is quick and he lifts the mop from the bucket and begins moving it around the floor again.

“What’s happened to me? Where is my wife, where are my kids?…Harry is just a baby…just a few months old.” Mitchell hears the fear drenched words, understands the confusion he must be feeling. He lifts his head very slightly and he looks at him.

“I don’t know…I can’t help you,” he mutters back to him in a low voice. The man’s eyes go wide.

“But I don’t understand…it all happened so quickly. I was about to lock up for the night…my wife was in bed already and I was watching some late night telly.” He pauses and looks around. Mitchell straightens up some more and looks at him. “Someone knocked on the door…a woman…she said her car had broken down and could she use my phone. I know it was late but I was raised to help others so I said yeah, of course, come in and she did, only she had a friend with her too, some bloke.” He frowns and when he looks back at Mitchell there are shiny tears in his eyes. “Their eyes turned black,” he whispers. Mitchell swallows. He opens his mouth to speak but as he does, a bright white light appears behind him. He turns in its direction and he sees the door that has materialised. For a moment he stares at it before he looks back at the man.

“I think that’s for you mate, you probably should to go through it,” he instructs him in a quiet voice. The man looks at him and he frowns.

“It is?”

Mitchell just nods. “Your family will be waiting for you. Go on, it’ll be okay.” He doesn’t mention the men, the ones with the sticks and ropes. His own memories are a bit hazy, a little nightmarish and he hopes he doesn’t go through what he did. He watches as the man slowly approaches the door and his step is hesitant and reluctant. He watches him open it and peer inside. Then despite himself, he smiles and before he goes through he glances back at Mitchell.

“They are, they’re waiting. Thanks.” Just like that, he’s gone.

 Mitchell sighs shakily and resumes cleaning. He used to ignore the doors that appeared, feigned disinterest in what lay behind them. Now he can’t because they make him wonder.

_Their eyes turned black._ First the attack on Shannon and now this. He frowns. The vampire who’d been guarding the door that first time had said they’d been looking for him and he still hasn’t figured out who _they_ are. He wonders whether they are connected somehow.

* * *

 

The blood has been cleaned away. Mitchell works quickly and efficiently and deliberately doesn’t think, doesn’t ponder. He watches the man’s body being wheeled away to the mortuary and he considers who he was, what his history was. He wonders whether Shannon has been involved with what has happened. There were four of them brought in at the same time so the chances are that she was. He wonders where she is. He hasn’t seen her yet.

He sees Abby standing with another nurse that he doesn’t recognise. He blinks at the new red hair again; it is so similar in colour to Shannon’s now that it’s disconcerting. He takes a breath and leaves his trolley somewhere out of the way. He’s due a break but he’s concerned that he hasn’t seen Shannon anywhere since he was called down to help.

Abby watches him approach her. Her expression is tense and stiff and unconsciously he clenches his fists. He knows that Shannon’s friend isn’t crazy about him but right now he doesn’t give a toss. The other nurse present melts away, just leaving them both.

“Have you seen Shannon?” he enquires in a low voice and he watches how she frowns almost suspiciously.

“Why do you want to know?” Mitchell stares at her and for a moment he can’t speak.

“Because she’s a friend?” he replies tartly. Abby’s blue eyes narrow on his face.

“You’re always floating around her, she won’t see it but I don’t trust you,” she tells him and he frowns at her this time.

“To be honest Abby, I don’t care what you think of me but Shannon is a friend. I’ve just spent about an hour cleaning up a shit load of blood from a quadruple…stabbing so I really don’t need your crap right now. I was wondering if she was okay, that’s all,” he hisses back. He sees how Abby’s eyes go wide at his tightly spoken words. She then seems to give pause and eventually she sighs.

“She’s taking her break but she won’t be in the cafeteria,” she tacks on as he goes to move past her. He pauses and waits.

“Out front,” she tells him.

“Thanks,” he replies and strides away.

* * *

 

He emerges from the front of the hospital and he pauses and looks left and right. Ambulances are still arriving and unloading their patients and Mitchell scans the faces of the people milling around to see if he can see her. Parallel to the front of the hospital are rows of wooden benches. Throughout the day they’re in constant use, patients waiting to be picked up and taken home, sitting with visiting family, staff using them to sit outside in the nicer weather. At this time of night they’re virtually empty.

He sees her sitting on the furthest bench away from him and he walks towards her.

“Shannon.” She turns her head in his direction and then just as quickly she turns back and he sees how she surreptitiously wipes at her eyes. He doesn’t wait for an invitation to sit as he lowers himself onto the bench beside her. He watches her, careful to keep a safe gap between them. She doesn’t speak.

“How are you doing?” he asks quietly and watches how she shrugs.

“I’ll be okay,” she whispers. He moves closer to her but still doesn’t touch her. It’s then that he sees the dried blood on the front of her scrub top. He stares at it for a moment and swallows.

“By all accounts it was a tough case.” She looks up at him. “I got called in for the clean-up,” he explains. She just nods.

“How is Mr Fisher?” Mitchell frowns “The dad… the police thought that he’d done it, that he’d gone crazy and knifed his whole family and tried to kill himself.”

“But you don’t think so?” Shannon shakes her head.

“He could barely speak but he kept… asking for his little boy…he was just a…baby.” She frowns fiercely but Mitchell sees fresh tears brew. He reaches for her hand and just holds it and he watches her.

“I’ll be okay,” she repeats more to herself than to him. He gently squeezes her hand.

“It’s fine,” he whispers back. She glances at him.

“There were two children, the little boy…and there was a little girl, she looked barely three years old. How could someone do this to someone so innocent Mitchell? It was horrific!” He watches her but doesn’t respond, he doesn’t know how to. He knows exactly why, it’s all about the blood; it’s _always_ about the blood. It doesn’t matter if the person is young or old, male or female, for a vampire it’s about wanting the blood that they have. He never went near children though. He’s watched and he’s wondered of course but there’s something… _obscene_ about draining a child, something almost cowardly about it.

“She was going into cardiac arrest as the ambulance pulled in to the bay so I just picked her up and ran with her. I’ve never run so… _fast_ in my life. And we tried…but it was too late, the blood loss was too catastrophic…”

Mitchell quietly sighs and he slides his arms around her and he draws her up against him. “You did your best Shannon but like you said it was too much, it was too late. You tried and that’s all you can hope for.”  He feels her head rest in the hollow of his shoulder, her perfume rises with her body heat, mixing with the dried blood on her scrub top.

“I should toughen up…”

“It was a child Shannon, lost under horrific circumstances, I think I’d be more concerned if you didn’t show any kind of emotion,” His voice is quiet.  She moves her head away from his shoulder and she looks at him. He smiles softly and using his fingers, brushes away the tear traces.

“You’re human, that’s what makes you special.” He bends his head and kisses her. It’s a brief contact but it helps her in that moment. Her hand comes to rest on his chest.

“You’d better not do that in public Mitchell…people like to talk…and gossip, it’s the lifeblood of this place.” She frowns briefly and gently pats his chest. She looks at him and her smile is gentle but it disappears when she looks down and sees the state of her clothing.

“I’d better go and get changed. Thanks for this.”

“Anytime and listen, when you’re next due for a break, come and find me okay?” he suggests and she lifts her head and looks at him.

“What? Is it a crime to share a cup of coffee together now?” he enquires when he sees the doubt in her eyes. He then shakes his head.

“You know what, it doesn’t matter, I’ll be around and I’m sure you’ll find me if you want to.” He stands up and pauses as she reaches up and captures his hand.

“I’m sorry Mitchell, okay, I’ll find you,” she promises.

 


	11. Chapter Eleven.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Repercussions.

**Chapter Eleven:**

“Ah, there you are. Got a couple of minutes soldier?” Mitchell stops when he hears that voice. He closes his eyes and sighs quietly. He shouldn’t be surprised, an event of this magnitude has to have got the vampire jungle drums throbbing.  Slowly he turns around.

It’s busy again in accident and emergency and the waiting area is rapidly filling up. Mitchell casts them all a wary look before fixing his attention on Herrick’s face.

“What do you want?” he demands and Herrick raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Is that how it’s going to be is it?” he drawls as he takes a couple of steps towards him. He places his hand on Mitchell’s forearm and he glares at him.

“I have nothing to say to you so let go of my arm.” Mitchell’s voice is low but his intention is clear.

“Oh please, what are you going to do, create a fuss? Actually if you want to lose your job, go right ahead, it’d be a pleasure.” He lifts something up but in a manner that only he can see and he sees the silvery flash of handcuffs. Mitchell sighs loudly. Over Herrick’s shoulder he sees Shannon re-enter the department. She doesn’t see him; instead she walks straight through, intent on changing out of her bloodied clothing. Herrick sees the look and he turns his head.

“Ah the redhead from the pizza restaurant, it’s all getting a little hot and bothered there now isn’t it?” He grins at him but Mitchell’s expression remains stony. Herrick sighs. He releases his hold on him. “Suit yourself. Actually I’m not here to talk about her but a word of warning, a friend of hers with similarly scary red hair was a witness to your little display of… _solidarity_ earlier and she didn’t look happy.”

Mitchell sighs when he realises that he’s talking about Abby.  “That’s her problem,” he mutters and Herrick regards him speculatively.

“Got them fighting over you again soldier, you never learn do you?” He smirks and Mitchell rolls his eyes.

“I’m not listening to you, not tonight,” he hisses at him. Herrick’s grin disappears.

“No, not quite the right time is it. Sounds like there was quite the to-do here tonight, anything to do with you by any chance?” He keeps his voice low and he watches how Mitchell’s eyes go hot with barely concealed anger.

“Of course not!” he hisses and Herrick regards him.

“Pity. We miss you in our ranks.”

The look Mitchell casts him is distinctly dark.

“I don’t have time for this, I have to get back to work,” he tells him and takes a step forwards. Herrick reaches for him once more, his hand wraps around his upper arm and stops him in his tracks.

“What do you know about all of this…?” He tilts his head towards the other police officers still present. Mitchell casts them a glance over one shoulder before staring into Herrick’s eyes.

“Nothing,” he mutters defensively.

“Are you sure? Because that certainly isn’t a nothing face that I see in front of me,” Herrick gently chides.

Mitchell glares at him. “It was a vampire attack. A family of four, husband, wife and two little kids,” he informs him in a low tight voice and Herrick’s eyes widen very slightly.

“Oh, and you know this because…” He waits.

“Well you’re here for a start, you wouldn’t be here for a simple… stabbing and…he told me.” His eyes slide away from Herrick’s face and once more he glances around himself. Herrick pauses as he absorbs what Mitchell has just told him.

“He? Who is this he that you’re alluding to and how exactly?” he enquires mildly and Mitchell rolls his eyes.

“Come on…who do you think? The husband,” he hisses and watches as the penny drops.

“Oh, you saw his _ghost_? I thought for a wonderful moment that you had slipped back into old habits and you were just teasing me earlier.” He grins and then shrugs at the look on Mitchell’s face. “What? I just wanted to be sure that’s all,” he replies innocently.

“It wasn’t me. I wouldn’t be here if it was,” Mitchell replies in a low defensive tone. The grin fades.

“No you wouldn’t, you’d be by my side where you should be,” Herrick reminds him. Mitchell glares at him once more and Herrick rolls his eyes in response.

“Really Mitchell, that’s all you’re going to do, glare me down? We both know that _this_ is a complete and utter waste of your time. This state does not suit you. I mean, why bother when you could be by my side again. What do you think your little redhead is going to do when she finds out the truth? Accept with a shrug and open arms? Please.” Herrick’s eyes narrow. “You are much more than all of this humanity Mitchell; you are way above it so why are you wasting your time?”

“I’m not wasting my time,” he grinds out.

“And we’re back to the redhead again. She will never accept you; you can’t possibly _think_ that you’ll have a happy ever after with her? Chances are she’ll run screaming in the opposite direction the moment she realises you’re not exactly Joe Public.”

Mitchell wrenches his arm out of Herrick’s grasp.

“I’m not having this discussion with you now, not here.” He glances around again. He flicks a final glare his way before he heads towards his cleaning trolley.

* * *

 

Shannon changes out of her bloodied scrubs and dumps them into the nearest receptacle. She’s tired, so tired and her shift isn’t even half way over yet. She leans up against her locker and closes her eyes. She remembers the howl of the ambulance siren, the surge of adrenaline as the doors burst open and the sheer volume of blood. It seemed to drench every single surface. She had seen that little girl, so still and so pale and without thinking had just scooped her up and ran into the department but it was too late. It was too late for all of them. She sighs and opens her eyes and rubs her hands over her face. Mitchell had come to look for her, to see if she was okay. It touches her that he would do this. The kiss came from left field but they were alone, as far as she’s aware no one saw them and she needed that little bit of contact, that little bit of something… _normal_.

She turns her head when she hears the door squeak open and she straightens up. She feels a dart of fear frisson through her. She listens.

“Shannon?” She sags with relief when she hears Abby’s voice and she watches as she appears.

“You okay?” she asks her and Shannon slowly nods.

“I had to change. Is everything okay?” she frowns when she sees the expression on her face. She seems irritated, pissed off if that little furrow between her eyebrows is anything to go by.

“When were you going to tell me that you’re dating the porter?” Abby demands and Shannon straightens up.

“What?”

“I saw you with him outside. You know I should’ve realised, he was looking for you before.”

“He’s just a friend Abby,” she sighs tiredly. She watches how her eyes widen speculatively.

“Oh really, and do you kiss all your friends like that?” she drawls and Shannon feels heat flood her face.

“Abby…”

“For fuck’s sake Shannon, he’s a _porter_!” she exclaims and Shannon’s eyes widen.

“So? We’ve had this discussion before and it seems that the only person who has a problem with that fact is you! I don’t _care_ , he’s a nice guy,” she defends.

“He is _weird_! There is something severely off about him!” Abby retaliates and Shannon rolls her eyes.

“Every bloke who doesn’t fit your criteria of what defines a so called _normal_ man is weird to you Abby. There are men who are doctors, lawyers and policemen who are sociopaths, some who are psychopaths in training; Christ knows we’ve come across a few of them in this line of work. So Mitchell is a porter, I like him and I really don’t care what you think about him,” she hisses back at her. Abby glares at her and she opens her mouth but Shannon throws up a hand and shakes her head.

“No, no you don’t get to tell me what you think I should do. You don’t know him. He’s quiet, he’s pretty shy and he keeps to himself, if that makes him weird by your _exacting_ standards then so be it.” She drops her hand and walks away. As she emerges from the locker room she keeps on walking and waits for the anger to cool down.

* * *

 

His shift is over. Every muscle aches and he has the beginning of a headache. He hasn’t seen Shannon since earlier in their shift and to be honest he didn’t really expect to despite her promise. His thoughts have been occupied by the events of earlier; the vampire attack, the ghost of the husband and also Herrick’s reappearance. Herrick almost always put him in a bad mood.

He changes into his street clothes and his steps are slow and tired as he leaves the locker room. He lifts his head and pauses when he sees Shannon waiting by the door. His eyes widen slightly.

“Hey, you waiting for me?” She looks at him and her answering smile is tired.

“Oh no, I’m waiting for the other porter I’m seeing, what do you think?” The mildly teasing tone makes him smile.

“Okay, I think I need to know his name so I can sort him out,” he responds. She moves beside him and links her arms through his. She briefly rests her head against his shoulder.

“Ummm….let me think, his name is…Mitchell. Incidentally is that your first name or your second name?” She looks at him.

“It’s my second name,” he replies.

“Oh? So what _is_ your first name or is it a state secret?”He glances at her. “Or is it so bad that it’s too embarrassing?” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and he chuckles despite his exhaustion.

“No, it’s not embarrassing, it’s just that I’ve pretty much always gone by my second name,” he explains with a shrug.

“So…”

“What?”

She rolls her eyes. “Your first name…will you tell me?” she asks.

He sighs. “Alright, it’s John.”

“But you prefer Mitchell.” It isn’t a question and he nods.

“I do.” They emerge into the early morning light. He looks at her once more and he sees the smudgy dark shadows below her eyes and he’s reminded of the shift they’ve just completed and of what she’s gone through.

“Let’s get you home,” he tells her and she smiles and just nods.

“Okay,” she agrees and he raises an eyebrow and she frowns at him.

“Really? It’s just that earlier got the impression that earlier I wasn’t good enough for you.” His tone is mildly reproachful and she pauses.

“I’ve never given you that impression Mitchell,” she breathes.

“Yeah you did. When I kissed you before,” he reminds her and she sighs and her shoulders slump.

“I’m sorry. You caught me off guard that’s all and we’re not supposed to do things like that, it’s not the done thing.”  She watches as his eyes slowly widen.

“Oh…I didn’t know.”

She shrugs. “I’ve never been a fan of convention anyway.” She looks up at him and she smiles and he feels the effect of it down to the pit of his stomach. She stands on tiptoe and kisses him. He reaches for her with his other hand and holds on tightly. People are milling around them, entering and leaving the building but they ignore them. He lets himself enjoy the experience, lets himself accept how it makes him feel. He feels the other side of him stir but it’s brief. Maybe it will get easier for him to do this. Time will tell.

* * *

 

He drives her home. The sky lightens to a pinky blue and it promises to be a beautiful day. He turns on the radio but keeps it low and he sneaks a look at her. She’s snuggled down in the seat with her arms folded and the back of her head touching the back of the seat. Her eyes are closed. She’s asleep.

He slows down as he enters her street. There are vehicles everywhere, police cars and vans and acres of police tape flutters in the early morning breeze. He manages to find a parking space in front of her building and he frowns as he kills the engine and the radio switches off. He turns his head as Shannon stirs. He watches her eyes flutter open, take in her surroundings and then widen marginally as self-awareness dawns. She sits up in her seat and scrubs at her face.

“Oh God I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I’m so sorry,” she apologises.

“It’s okay.” He dips his head towards the comings and goings outside “Something happened last night,” he comments. Shannon turns her attention to the comings and goings and she frowns.

“Looks serious, I wonder what happened?” She opens the car door and climbs out. Mitchell does likewise but he stays beside the car as Shannon heads towards the melee and she pauses beside a police officer. He watches as they converse for a moment and an uncomfortable feeling pools in the pit of his stomach as he watches as she turns her head towards him. Her face is white; her eyes are wide with shock. He walks towards her and reaches for her as she returns to him, holding her steady as she lifts stunned eyes to his.

“What?” he demands. He does not like how white she has gone. “Shannon?” he enquires as her mouth opens but no sound comes out of it. She inhales noisily.

“Mitchell…that family…the Fishers…they live… _lived_ in my street, two doors away,” she gasps and Mitchell’s head snaps up. He slides an arm across her shoulder and draws her up against him. He turns his attention to the police officers, the forensic people in their pristine white hooded suits going in and out of the property. He turns his head to Shannon’s building which is only two houses away.  His mouth goes dry and he turns his head and he looks up and down the street. Apart from the police and forensic presence, nothing else seems to be out of the ordinary. A chill sparkles down his spine.

A vampire attack only two doors away from Shannon’s front door? He remembers the vampire outside of the women’s locker room.

_We’ve been looking for you mate._

What was that vamp’s name? He struggles for a moment to remember. Then it comes to him.

It was Jimmy. He looks back down at Shannon. She moves away from him.

“I didn’t recognise them…there was so much blood.” She looks at him. “Oh God Mitchell…” she breathes. Her eyes fill with tears and she knuckles them away.

“Come on, let’s get you inside. You’re absolutely shattered and all of this won’t do you any good.” He keeps a proprietorial hand between her shoulder blades and he walks with her to her front door. He stands with her as she hunts for her keys but his gaze is sharp as he watches everything that is going on.

Something is up, he’s almost sure of it now.

He returns his attention to her as she finds her keys and lets herself in. He follows her inside and every sense is on alert. He listens and he watches. Nothing moves, everything seems to be as it should.

He watches her unlock the door to her flat and open the door. She turns to look at him.

“Do you want to stay over?” she asks him and he looks into her eyes. Every part of him is screaming at him to accept but after a pause he shakes his head.

“I’d better not but thanks for the invitation.” In truth if he did stay he doubts neither of them will get much sleep. He frowns slightly. “Will you be okay?” he asks instead. She shrugs listlessly.

“I will be. I suppose I’m just knackered after the night we’ve had and then finding out they lived so close to me.” She tries to smile but doesn’t quite make it.

“Get some sleep, you’ll feel better for it. Do you want me to pick you up later?” He watches as she slowly shakes her head. “I really don’t mind,” he tacks on and he hears her sigh.

“I know you don’t but I’ll be okay I promise.”

“Then I’ll see you at work tonight?” She nods. His eyes scan her face.

“Go inside,” he tells her and she nods once more. He watches her go in and the door clicks closed. He exhales and turns on his heel.  He begins to walk away.

“Mitchell?” As he turns, she approaches him. He pauses and waits. She stops in front of him and stands on tiptoe. Her kiss makes him blink in surprise.

“Thank you,” she whispers and he frowns at her.

“What for?” Her smile is mysterious and she shrugs.

“Just…thanks.” Dumbfounded, he watches her go back into her flat. This time he waits til he hears the twist of the lock.

He emerges into the early morning sunshine and he casts the police a distinctly suspicious look as he slips through the gate. He sees a group of them a few feet away and he recognises one of them who turns and gives him a long look. It makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

Herrick.

He gets back into his car and he starts the engine. It’s loud in the early morning bustle. He drives away.

* * *

 

“I thought you said the man was a legend?”

“Once upon a time he was. He was everything and more.” As the car drives past he turns his head away. All it will take is a glimpse and the jig, so to speak, will be up. He doesn’t know how good his memory is and he doesn’t want to take the risk. It’s been seventy-five years since their one and only meeting. Maybe he won’t remember him but he hopes that he will.

“Once upon a time maybe. He works in a hospital now, cleaning up other people’s shit and sick and whatnot. If he was someone to be feared what the fuck is he doing in a place like that?” The scorn in his companion’s voice grates on his nerves.

“He wants to be human I suppose. It’s easy to forget sometimes.”

“Why would he want to do that? Is he touched in the head or something?”

He turns his head sharply and he glares at him this time. “I don’t know Jimmy; did the punch in the face feel like he was losing touch with his faculties? Rumour has it he knocked you clean off your feet.” His voice is chilly, the sarcasm plain. Jimmy bristles in his seat.

“He didn’t.”

“Back in the day if John Mitchell had struck you then you wouldn’t be getting up in a hurry, he was a cold vicious bastard by all accounts.” His eyes harden. He turns his head to stare out of the car window and he watches the police officers dispassionately. “You know Mitchell isn’t an idiot, he will figure this out.”

“How do you know, considering you just met him the once?” Jimmy asks and his companion sighs impatiently.

“His reputation you fool, how many times do I need to remind you of it?” he retorts crossly. “Word gets around, vampires like to talk and they like to brag. Mitchell never had to, his reputation preceded him. Vampires talked about _him_. I’ve heard the stories and I know them to be true. When he’s at his best, he’s magnificent which is why it’s hard to stomach all of this… _sobriety_ , but then again I suppose it will make it easier to kill him.” He shrugs almost restlessly. He indicates the mess of police and forensic people milling around. “Eleanor will have her work cut out for her if her contacts can successfully explain this away. I’m surprised the press haven’t caught wind of it.” He hasn’t seen a single reporter and that’s unusual.

“That will be Herrick’s doing,” Jimmy explains and he looks at him again.

“Herrick’s here?”

Jimmy nods. “Didn’t you know? He’s a copper, sees a lot, hears a lot and hides much more and he’s also Mitchell’s sire so in a way he keeps tabs on him and as you can imagine, Mitchell doesn’t like that, he never has done.” Jimmy grins. His companion sighs. Now _that_ he can understand. Why doesn’t Mitchell do what he did and be done with it? He straightens up in his seat.

“We’re done here; I think I’ve seen all that I need to. Let’s go.” His eyes take in the rows of flats and houses. Young Oliver was right on the money. He’s seen the redhead peek out of her window and watch Mitchell walk down the path to his car so he knows exactly where she is. Jimmy has already informed him of her occupation. It’s going to be fun and he wonders how receptive she’ll be to his charms.

More to the point how will Mitchell react?

Donovan Flynn can’t wait to find out.

 

 

 


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wheels are about to be set in motion....

**Chapter Twelve:**

All conversation slows to a halt as he makes his entrance. Mitchell regards them cautiously. Nobody rushes to welcome him back and he does not give the impression that he’s here to pay a social call. His eyes scan the faces. Most of them he recognises, most of them he helped through their early terrifying first days after recruitment. There are also some new faces present and he wonders whether they had a choice to be what they are now, whether they’re fully aware of what their new life has in store for them or are they just dazzled by the promise of forever?

“What do you want?” Seth pushes his way to the front of the small crowd. His tone is coldly suspicious and downright unwelcoming and Mitchell straightens and stares at him head on.

“Where’s Herrick?” he asks.

Seth frowns. “Why?”

“If I thought it was any of your business then I’d tell you.” Mitchell keeps his tone cool, slightly reprimanding and superior. He knows that it has always annoyed Seth that he’d been Herrick’s lieutenant, the one he trusted the most as much as Herrick trusts anyone.

“He’s not available.”  _He’s not available to you anymore_. Mitchell hears the unspoken rebuke.

“I need to talk to him Seth and you being an arsehole isn’t going to change that. Is he in?” His voice doesn’t rise above its normal level and Seth just stares at him. Mitchell sighs and then turns to the other vampires congregated around.

“Anyone?” he requests this time raising his voice to be heard.

“His office,” one of them pipes up and Mitchell inclines his head.

“Thank you,” he responds levelly and heads in the direction of Herrick’s office.

* * *

 

Herrick’s base of operations is an abandoned warehouse close to the river. It’s hidden in the middle of a large industrial estate. Their comings and goings don’t seem to attract all that much attention. It helps that the units either side of theirs are empty and have been for quite some time.

He doesn’t knock, he goes straight in and as he knew he would be, Herrick is seated behind a desk and his head is bent over what looks like paperwork. A look of intense irritation flashes across his face at being interrupted but upon realising who his visitor is it quickly disappears.  Mitchell watches the smile that sweeps across his face. He gets to his feet and skirts around the desk. He sees the hopeful look in his eyes.

“Twice in as many days, dare I hope that you’ve changed your mind?” he enquires neutrally.

“This isn’t a social call,” Mitchell replies. Herrick pauses and regards him keenly.

“No, I can see that.”

“I saw you this morning, outside of the residence of that family that were killed last night.”

“And?” Herrick waits. Mitchell shifts and he folds his arms tightly across his chest and his expression darkens.

“It happened two doors away from where Shannon lives…” Herrick widens his eyes very slightly.

“And Shannon is….” Mitchell frowns and Herrick’s expression changes to one of enlightenment. “Oh…the _nurse,_ of course.” He looks enquiringly at him and Mitchell sighs.

“A vampire attacked her at the hospital and then a family is attacked two doors away from her, I don’t think it’s a coincidence,” he tells him

“Well you know it _could_ be exactly that…”Herrick responds mildly.

“But you don’t think so.” Herrick shrugs. Mitchell watches as he turns and heads back behind his desk. He faces Mitchell again.

“I wondered why that family would be targeted but until I saw you leave her building, I had no idea she even lived there. You think someone is after her blood?” Mitchell shrugs. Herrick slowly lowers himself back onto his chair.

“Or perhaps they could be targeting your lady friend because of you, your _previous_ reputation, to see if the rumours of your sobriety are true, test your mettle so to speak.” He flicks a look up at him.

“Come on, you can’t possibly be surprised by that, by the idea of someone wanting to rattle your cage like that. They either want you to snap and unleash a legendarily unholy temper tantrum of old or they want to see if you’ll walk away, if you’ve finally gone _soft_. Like it or not, a vampire with your reputation sober or whatever is still a target,” Herrick reminds him. He watches Mitchell’s frown deepen in thought.

“It’s a possibility, they’ll have to know that if they hurt her then they’ll get retribution,” he mutters and he’s distracted by his sire’s loud melodramatic sigh.

“Listen to you, you sound almost _heroic_ ,” he mocks and Mitchell glares at him. Herrick rolls his eyes.

“There was a vampire at the hospital…when Shannon was attacked, looked older than me with a shaven head, said his name was Jimmy,” Mitchell begins. Herrick listens.

“Jimmy…did he have a second name?”

Mitchell shakes his head.

“Well there’s a needle in a haystack right there soldier, lots of vampires in these parts go by that name,” Herrick sighs. Mitchell regards him and his expression is slightly troubled.

“I _know_ all the vampires in these parts and I didn’t recognise him,” he tells him. Herrick seems to pause.

“I’ll keep my ears open and if I hear anything then I will let you know.”

 Mitchell just nods.

“I appreciate it,” he mumbles and Herrick regards him steadily.

“I’ll hold you to that.”  Mitchell already knows this; Herrick doesn’t do anything for free. To use the cliché, the payback will be a bitch; Herrick doesn’t like the idea of his lieutenant living his life such as it is without his all pervading influences. The two men stare at each other.

“I know you will,” Mitchell replies quietly. Herrick’s expression is thoughtful as he watches him leave.

* * *

 

The cafeteria is quiet at this time of night. Mitchell grabs a coffee and a chocolate bar. He turns his head and he sees Shannon. She’s sitting with Abby, their two red heads pressed together as they peruse something spread out on the table between them. At that moment Shannon looks up and the smile that she sends him makes his stomach muscles clench. She beckons him over. Abby also looks up and Mitchell notices that her expression isn’t exactly on the welcoming side. He takes a breath and strides towards them.

“Hey,” he greets and casts an unsure look Abby’s way. Shannon looks up at him.

“Hey yourself, sit down.” She pats the chair beside her and obediently he sinks down onto it. He notices a poster printed on bright pink paper on the table between them and he regards it curiously.

“What’s that you’re looking at?” he enquires curiously, craning his neck to see. Shannon pushes the poster closer to him.

“David Fletcher’s retirement party this Saturday,” She tells him and she looks at him. She sees his confusion. “If you weren’t so intent on being so solitary then you’d know David is a porter here, he’s been here for almost thirty years and knows everything that goes on in this place.” Mitchell looks back at the poster. The name is vaguely familiar come to think of it.

“Oh,” he answers and he takes a mouthful of coffee, his eyes skipping around the almost empty cafeteria. It’s quiet at this time of night. He finds the peace a balm at this hour. Dealing with countless demands and requests throughout the day can be exhausting. When he’s on nightshift he has the opportunity to think. He glances back at Shannon. Maybe that’s not such a good idea either, thinking can get you into such trouble sometimes.

“Do you want to go?” she asks and he pauses mid sip and looks at her. Slowly he lowers his cup.

“Excuse me?”

“To David’s retirement party, with me…with _us_ …” She indicates Abby and Mitchell flicks another look at her friend.

“Oh I don’t know… I mean I barely know the guy…” he hedges but Shannon’s look is steady.

“You need to learn how to make friends Mitchell and it doesn’t matter that you barely know him, you’re still relatively new here. It’d be a good opportunity to get to know the other blokes,” she tells him. Mitchell shrugs awkwardly.

“I dunno…” he prevaricates. Shannon smiles at him and she gently nudges him.

“Oh go on, you might end up enjoying yourself, imagine that.” Her eyes twinkle speculatively. He watches her for a moment. Imagine that indeed. He very much doubts that her idea of having fun gets even close to his but he smiles.

“Okay, sounds like a plan.” He looks at Abby who hasn’t said a word since he joined them. “You don’t mind?” he asks her. Abby stares at him unblinkingly for a moment. Then she shakes her head.

“I don’t mind at all, it should be a laugh,” she answers. Abby then looks at Shannon.

“I’d better be getting back, don’t be too late okay?” Shannon just nods and Abby gets to her feet. She regards Mitchell one more time before walking away. He turns his head and watches her for a minute.

“She doesn’t like me,” he comments. He turns his head back in Shannon’s direction when he feels her touch his arm.

“Don’t take it personally.  To her you’re just a porter, now if you were a cardiologist or an oncologist then she’d be all over you like a rash and believe me, that’s a far scarier prospect.” She grins at him and he feels a slow smile in response. For a moment they just look at each other.

“So. How are you?” he asks. She looks well rested; he doesn’t see any more dark shadows beneath her golden brown eyes. She shrugs.

“I’m better. You were right, I was tired and over emotional and I just needed to sleep. It was all just a horrible coincidence,” she answers.

Mitchell doesn’t believe in coincidences, not within his walk of life. Instead he takes another sip of coffee. She watches him.

“What?” he asks. Her answering smile is slow.

“Nothing, I just like to look at you,” she admits and he feels the beginning of a blush stain his cheeks. He looks down at the table instead, at the poster in front of her, at anything but not at her. He wants to, he just can’t.

“Hey, did I just embarrass you?” He shrugs. He feels her hand on his shoulder. His eyes slide back up to her face and hold.

“I didn’t take you for the sensitive type.”

_I’m not, not normally. Once upon a time the word just didn’t exist in my vocabulary._

“I have to get back to work,” she informs him regretfully.  “No rest for the wicked,” she tacks on and he watches her finish her cup of tea. She looks at him once more and leans in and she presses a kiss on his mouth. Her lips feel warm and soft and he welcomes the brief contact.

“See you at the end of shift,” she whispers and then she’s gone.

* * *

 

There’s a new face at the breakfast table.

Jessie walks into the dining room and halts when she sees him sitting opposite Eleanor. They’re laughing quietly over something. It sounds exclusive and something ripples along the length of her spine at the intimacy of it. Eleanor turns her head and she smiles at her.

“Jessica, you’re finally awake, come and meet Donovan. He’s going to be staying with us for a little while.” Jessie watches Donovan slowly rise to his feet, his eyes transfixed upon her face. He smiles.

“Jessica, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Eleanor has told me so much about you that I feel as though I know you already.” Jessie doesn’t immediately respond as one thought goes off in her head.

_He’s Irish._

She feels the feeling of dislike curdle in the pit of her stomach which is ridiculous because she doesn’t even know him apart from his name and the fact that he’s from Ireland. She watches him as she slowly approaches the breakfast table. He’s very handsome to look at with short dark curly hair and pale green eyes. They’re so colourless that they look almost opaque. She suppresses a shiver. Donovan remains standing until Jessie takes her seat to Eleanor’s left and only then does he sit down again. She looks away and reaches for the teapot in the centre of the table. Her stomach is churning and she doesn’t think she can stomach anything solid at the moment. The conversation resumes between Eleanor and Donovan and she tunes them out as she pours her tea and adds milk. Slowly she stirs it.

Something has changed within the household. Eleanor and Jimmy had gone out late the previous evening and she’d been left with just Oliver for company. Eleanor didn’t say where they were going but it was obvious Oliver knew what was going on. His eyes had sparkled with knowledge but he’d refused to divulge and eventually she’d gone to bed in disgust. She hadn’t slept of course. She wonders where Eleanor and Jimmy disappeared off to and invariably her thoughts drift back to Cutler and what he could be doing about now.

“Jessica?” She suddenly snaps to attention and her eyes flick to Eleanor’s face. There’s a strangely indulgent expression on her sire’s face that makes her wary all of a sudden.

“You looked like you were a million miles away,” she comments and Jessie just shrugs and sips her tea.

“I was wondering whether you’d accompany Donovan today. It’s been a while since he was last in Bristol, I’d do it myself but I think someone closer in age to him would be more suitable.” Jessie frowns slightly, someone closer in age, how old is Donovan exactly? She turns her head and looks at him.

“Chronologically I’m a hundred and fifty but time stopped for me when I was twenty five,” he supplies. Jessie doesn’t reply and instead turns her head back to Eleanor.

“Can’t Oliver do it?” she asks instead and she sees the smile drop.

“No, Oliver can’t do it, I’ve asked you and I expect you to comply,” she replies coolly. Jessie barely refrains from rolling her eyes. She is not in the mood to babysit this vampire.  He sets her on edge. She wants to be by herself and think.

“It doesn’t matter Eleanor, I’m sure the city hasn’t changed much in seventy five years,” Flynn interrupts and Jessie sends him a sharp look.

“You were last here seventy five years ago?” she repeats and watches him slowly nod.

“Revisiting old friends and hoping to renew old relationships. Neither was successful.” The look he sends Eleanor is measured and Jessie gets the distinct impression that something else entirely is going on here. She turns her head and looks at Eleanor but she doesn’t expand on the subject any further. She picks up her tea cup again and drains its contents.

“I have things to do.” The look she sends Eleanor is stern as she gets to her feet. At the last minute she pauses and looks at Flynn.

“It was nice to meet you Mr Flynn, perhaps we could do something together at a later date?” she suggests and Flynn smiles at her and he inclines his head.

“I’d like that very much,” he accepts. He watches her leave before returning his attention to Eleanor.

“She’s Lily’s replacement?” he whispers. Eleanor’s shrug is slow.

“I saw her at that party you showed up at back then and I couldn’t resist her, I had the same feeling about her as I did the first time I saw Lily,” she confesses. Flynn slowly smiles.

“She’s certainly beautiful, not on par with Lily but she’s close. She was the entertainment?” He watches her nod.

“John Mitchell brought her, charmed her into thinking there would be people here who could advance her fledgling career as an actress.”

“Well it seems she embarked on a completely different fledgling career then didn’t she?” Eleanor smiles faintly and nods. Flynn regards her.

“Problems?”

“I’m not sure. She’s becoming distant and wilful and I’m at a loss as to how to deal with it. If I clamp down she may do what Lily did and rebel but if I give her too much freedom…”

“She might leave you.”

Eleanor just nods.

“She’s been with you for this long Eleanor; I can’t see her leaving now.”

“I hope you’re right,” she sighs and shakes her head. “Maybe it’s because this is the first time we’ve been back in Bristol since…” Her words fade away and Flynn sees the deep sadness in her eyes. Since Lily’s death, no scratch that, since her _murder._ It goes unspoken.

“There are a lot of memories here. We came back just before the millennium celebrations and I can’t bring myself to leave.”

“And Mitchell is back…” Flynn reminds her and Eleanor’s eyes narrow.

“He’s back; he’s apparently _sober_ as if what we are is an affliction. He seems to have a girlfriend too, a _human_ girlfriend.”

“I know, I saw her. I can see why he likes her, she’s a pretty thing.” He sees the gleam in her eyes and he slowly smiles.

“I think I’ll go and introduce myself to her soon and get the measure of her,” he informs her.

* * *

 

The peal of the doorbell is loud in the silence and it makes him start. He’s tempted to ignore it. He doesn’t get much in the way of sales people or parcel deliveries. He frowns at the pastel drawing that he’s attempting to complete and when the doorbell shrills again he sighs and puts down the chalk. He pulls the rag out of the back pocket of his ancient jeans and wipes dusty long fingers on it. He drops a cloth over the drawing and goes to see who his visitor is.

His eyes go wide when he sees Jessie standing on the doorstep.

“Well there’s a face I didn’t expect to see again in a hurry,” he comments. She just stares at him.

“May I come in?” she asks in a low voice and he steps to one side and holds out an arm. He watches her sweep past and he catches a drift of her violet perfume. He closes the door and follows her through and back into the conservatory. She pauses and turns and watches him approach her.

“Have I come at a bad time?” she enquires and he shakes his head.

“You’re always welcome here Jessie, I told you that,” he reminds her in a soft voice. He pulls the rag out of the back pocket of his jeans and drops it onto the wrought iron table and he pauses in front of her.

“Can I get you a drink, a glass of wine perhaps?” She shakes her head and he sees the frown forming.

“What’s wrong?” he asks as he places his hands lightly on her upper arms.

“Something is going on back at home.”

“Such as?” Jessie shrugs.

“If I knew then I wouldn’t be talking to you about it would I?” she retorts waspishly and he drops his hands.

“True but something has you rattled.”

“A new face showed up this morning by the name of Donovan Flynn, dark haired, Irish, charming…are they _all_ that charming or have I just been unlucky?” she demands crossly but Harper holds his counsel, he gets the distinct impression that her question is on the rhetorical side.

“I’m assuming he and Eleanor have a past because they were awfully chummy this morning.”

Harper straightens imperceptibly as a thought occurs to him. Donovan Flynn, dark haired, Irish and charming. The name niggles and scratches at the back of his conscience and he briefly struggles with it.

It comes to him in a moment of clarity. This has to do with Lily Vale. He recognises the name now. His stomach sinks.

Oh no. Oh no _no_. This is not good. This is not good at all.


	13. Chapter Thirteen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn makes his presence felt...

**Chapter Thirteen:**

She can’t help but notice him. Actually she’s not the only one to have noticed him judging by the way a couple of the other nurses including Abby are fluttering around him. He’s sitting sideways on a trolley and he’s smiling at the nurse who is slowly and carefully winding a bandage around his wrist.

In a funny kind of way he reminds her a little bit of Mitchell but much better put together. His clothes are immaculate and look expensive. She watches how he charms the nurse taking care of him, the usually stoic and strict Veronica is blushing like a schoolgirl. Shannon bites back a grin. She straightens marginally as he turns his head and he looks at her.

He has pale coloured eyes and with his colouring it looks downright eerie. She takes a breath and tries not to shiver. He continues to observe her all the while still talking to Veronica. Shannon can’t quite hear what is being said but whatever it is, it’s having the most remarkable effect on one of the sourest nurses in the department. She wonders what his secret is.

Curiosity gets the better of her and she slowly approaches them. Veronica lifts her head and watches her approach.

“Ah, here she is,” she informs her patient and smiles at Shannon which takes her a little bit by surprise. Veronica doesn’t smile at anyone if she can help it.

“Is there a problem?” Shannon enquires looking from Abby to Veronica. They exchange a look and smile at each other. Shannon frowns.

“Mr Flynn was just asking after you that’s all,” Abby informs her and Shannon regards the patient sitting on the side of the trolley and she frowns slightly.

“You were?” She watches how he ducks his head slightly, as if embarrassed at being caught out but there’s something about it that doesn’t quite ring true.

“Guilty as charged. I was captivated by your beautiful red hair and of course these fine nurses were only too happy to oblige and answer my curious questions.” She watches how he glances between Abby and Veronica and she feels irritation flare.

“Oh I’m sure they were.” She glares mildly at Abby who grins and looks away. She returns her attention to the patient. He’s good looking with short dark curls and those arresting eyes of his and his Irish accent hasn’t passed by unnoticed either. There is something of Mitchell about him and that’s not because of his accent. There’s something about him. She supposes if Mitchell wore expensive suits, shaved a bit more and cut his hair, he’d look more like this one but she’s quite happy that he doesn’t because she likes him just the way he is.

“Mr Flynn is it? While I’m rather flattered by your opinion, it’s really rather inappropriate after all you are a patient here.”

 Flynn’s eyes go wide with contrition. “Oh I do apologise Nurse Shannon, it wasn’t my intention to offend you or to come across as inappropriate but I couldn’t help myself. You’re a very… _beautiful_ young woman.” He smiles at her. She watches him slide off the trolley to stand in front of her. He’s wearing what looks like an expensive navy blue suit and paler blue shirt. The jacket is folded neatly on the trolley.

Shannon looks at Veronica who’s regarding them both with open curiosity. Shannon reaches for the patient record and flips through it. She looks back at Veronica.

“I’ll take over from here thanks Veronica, I know we’re busy today.” The message isn’t exactly subtle and she waits until Veronica is out of ear shot. Abby fades away with her.

“I hope you’re not cross with me, I truly didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” Flynn apologises, softening his voice. She looks up at him. He’s about the same height as Mitchell too but there is a smooth, polished and _practiced_ manner about him that Mitchell doesn’t have.

Flynn reaches for her and his hand circles her wrist. His skin is cool to the touch.

“Perhaps I could make it up to you? Drinks after work…dinner perhaps. What time do you finish?” She can feel his thumb tracing slow hypnotic circles on the sensitive skin of the inside of her wrist and for a moment her mind goes utterly blank. A shiver goes up and down her spine and she tries to pull her arm away but instead his grip tightens.

“I’m sorry Mr Flynn but I find that very inappropriate and I already have a boyfriend.” She frowns. Would Mitchell class their relationship as being boyfriend and girlfriend?  She notices how his gaze seems to sharpen with interest and she swallows against a suddenly dry mouth. Once more she tries to pull her arm away. His grip tightens again.

“I’ve heard that you like Irish men Shannon or at least one in particular.” Flynn’s voice is low but she’s spooked by the look in his eyes, by the seemingly unholy light that has flared within them.  She wonders how he knows about Mitchell.

“Please let go of me Mr Flynn or I’ll have to get security remove you from the department,” she warns him. Flynn smiles coldly at her.

“I’d like to see them try, I really _really_ would.”  Shannon takes a deep breath and she pushes down the feelings of emerging panic. She’s faced situations like this before with violent, unstable patients but there is something about this one that scares her.

“Your attention is unwelcome and I’d appreciate it if you’d let go of my arm.” Her voice trembles despite her bravado.

* * *

 

Mitchell has a break and he enters A and E hoping to persuade Shannon to play hooky for a few minutes and join him for a quick cup of tea and a chat. His eyes search her out. It’s reasonably busy but he hopes that he can manage to persuade her anyway.

She’s hard to miss with her red hair. He sees her standing across from him with her back to him and she’s talking to someone. Mitchell walks towards them and his stride falters and pauses when he sees who she’s talking to. His eyes widen with surprise.

Holy hell, now _there’s_ a face he hasn’t seen in three quarters of a century.

He wonders what he’s doing here after all of this time. He takes a deep breath and continues his way towards them.

Shannon sees how Flynn’s gaze slides briefly away from her face to glance over her shoulder and she turns her head. Her eyes widen when she sees Mitchell approaching and his expression is dark judging by the frown on his face.

“Shannon…is everything okay?” He pauses beside her. He then looks down and he sees that Flynn is still holding onto her wrist. He feels something swell inside of him and it takes him a second to recognise it for what it is.

_Jealousy_.

 He looks back at Shannon and he sees the expression in her eyes. She’s not happy for some reason but she doesn’t want him to see it.

“Everything is fine Mitchell, Mr Flynn was about to leave.” She turns her head and glares at Flynn. Mitchell looks at him and he knows that Flynn has no intention of doing what she’s asked. Mitchell smiles coldly and he clamps a hand over Flynn’s wrist and sends him a determined measured look

“I think that’s a very good idea indeed, how about I help you?” he suggests and he wrenches his hand free of Shannon’s wrist. With one hand on his upper arm, he propels him roughly through the double doors of the department, scooping up his jacket from the trolley as he goes by.

* * *

 

Once outside in the corridor, Mitchell shoves him hard and watches him stagger and then bump up against the opposite wall.  He strides towards him as he turns around and he flings his jacket at him, watching him catch it. Flynn sees him approach him and he smiles.

“Well John, have to admit it’s been a little while!” he announces breezily.  Mitchell gets right into his personal space and he glares at him. He jostles him and his back makes heavy contact with the wall once more.

“Hey steady on there old man!” he laughs but Mitchell doesn’t smile back. Flynn straightens up but Mitchell forces him back yet again and just like that, the humour evaporates from Flynn’s face.

“What are you doing here Flynn?” he demands in a low angry voice.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I specifically remember telling you that if I saw you again then I’d kill you.”

“No John, what you _specifically_ said was if you saw me near _Lily_ again then you’d kill me,” Flynn retaliates.

“You didn’t answer my question, what are you doing back in Bristol and where’s your sire, isn’t he supposed to be taking care of you?”

Flynn’s answering smile is cold.

“Reilly and I had a…parting of the ways several years ago, he won’t be around anymore.” Mitchell regards him. The way he says it sends a chill down his spine. He watches how Flynn smiles at him.

“I’ve heard you’re on the wagon Mitchell, quite the achievement for someone of your calibre. I take it the girlfriend doesn’t know of your predilections?”

“And you’re going to take it upon yourself to tell her am I right?” He watches Flynn’s eyes go round.

“I wouldn’t do that to you John, as if! But can you imagine her reaction if she were to find out somehow?” He grins slyly. “All that red hair…I’ll bet she’s a firecracker between the sheets, redheads always are and I’d _love_ to find out for myself.” He laughs as Mitchell grabs the front of his shirt and he slams him hard against the wall once more. “You never did like to share did you?” he goads.

“Keep it up mate because you’re on a one way ticket to a stake through the heart,” Mitchell snarls at him.

“Oh and you’re going to do that are you?” Flynn responds disbelievingly.

“You think because I don’t feed anymore that I’ve gone soft is that it? Was it you who did that family the other day?”  Flynn stares at him. He grins.

“I wish it had been. They got so close to your girl, the only mistake they made was that they got her shift wrong and she was on nights,” he taunts and Mitchell tightens his grip, feeling the anger pour through him. Flynn chuckles.

“You’re so _easy_ to rile do you know that, who knew sobriety would make you so emotional?” Mitchell pulls him upright and once more he pushes his face into his.

“You don’t even _look_ at Shannon do you hear me? If you see her walking towards you then you’ll be a good boy and turn and walk in the opposite direction. You will not harm a hair on her head, you will not hurt a single inch of her and you can pass that message on to your friends and whatever plans they may have for her,” Mitchell whispers. Flynn chuckles again.

“Oh yeah, and what are you gonna do?” he scoffs

“Believe me, you don’t want to know. Enough to say that what I did to Lily will be _nothing_ compared to what I’ll do to you, to your _friends_ ,” Mitchell answers in a low, lethal tone. As he knew it would, the laughter and the amusement drains out of Flynn’s face. Mitchell slowly releases his grip on Flynn’s shirt and takes a step back.

“I’ll let you walk away this time but the next time you won’t be so lucky,” he tells him. Flynn stares at him. He then lunges towards him and pushes him across the corridor. People who are passing by scatter out of the way. It’s Mitchell’s turn to feel his back slam into the wall and he gasps as the air leaves his lungs.  Flynn’s eyes are glossy black and his fangs are on show. Mitchell straightens and spins Flynn around so that their positions are reversed. He grabs him by his throat and holds him in place as Flynn’s eyes flash green and his fangs retract. Mitchell feels his own eyes scorch.

“Don’t _try_ to mess with me Flynn. If you know what’s good for you then you’ll leave Bristol and we won’t cross paths again. If I see you again I _will_ kill you, I promise you that.” His eyes return to normal as the doors to accident and emergency open and Shannon appears.

“Mitchell?” she enquires and he hears the nervousness in her tone. He lets go of Flynn.

“He’s just leaving,” He doesn’t look at her as he tells her this. Flynn straightens up and picks up his jacket from the floor.

“I’ll be seeing you soon Mitchell,” he promises with a slow nod. Mitchell smiles but there’s no humour or warmth in it.

“Oh no you won’t,” he replies. He stays where he is and he watches him walk away.

He turns his head and looks at Shannon.

“Are you okay?” he demands in a rough voice as he gently takes hold of her shoulders. She nods and he just refrains himself from hugging her to him.

“He knows you.” It isn’t a question. He sighs and lets go of her.

“Yeah.”

“How?”

He glances at her.

“We moved in the same circles, hung out with the same…people for a short period of time a while ago,” he admits. He’s surprised as she moves closer to him, sliding her arms around his middle. Hesitantly he slips an arm across her shoulder and allows her to hug him.

“He made me very nervous, there’s something _unholy_ about him,” she whispers. He looks at her.

“He’s gone now and he won’t be back,” he promises her and she frowns at him.

“Are you sure? He seemed pretty certain that he’d see you again.” Mitchell shakes his head.

“He won’t and he won’t get near you again,” he informs her. She moves away from him.

“Want to grab a cup of tea with me? I think I could do with one,” she invites. He offers her a slight smile.

“That’s why I was in your department in the first place; I was hoping to sneak you away.” He watches her smile and then laugh.

“Come on, let’s sneak away together.” She slips her arm through his and turns him around.

* * *

 

Harper makes tea and places a mug on the kitchen table in front of Jessie. He sits down beside her and watches her carefully. There’s a very slight frown marring the perfect skin between her eyebrows and he curls his fingers inwards and fights against the compulsion to grab his sketchpad and pencils and draw her. Jessie clicks to attention then and she flicks a grateful glance his way. She reaches for the cup.

“Thanks for this. I was pretty awful to you the other day. You had every right to slam the door in my face.”

Harper smiles softly. “Now why would I want to do that sweet pea? It’s such a pretty face.” She looks at him and returns his smile. “Drink your tea and we can talk…or not if you’d rather. I’m just glad to see you again,” he confides. She takes a sip of her tea and lowers the cup to the table.

“I’ve never had anyone to talk to, not like this. I don’t think I’ve ever trusted anyone enough to confide in,” she admits.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, genuinely curious. She regards him for a long moment and slowly she nods.

“It’s madness isn’t it because we barely know each other but I do trust you. You’re different from the other vampires that I know. They’re all on the lookout for the next opportunity, they’re selfish, cruel and arrogant and you aren’t any of those. Why?” Harper shrugs.

“I don’t know that I’m not selfish. I like my own company far too much, I don’t seek the company of other vampires and anyway I think they find me far too odd for comfort, a vegetarian vampire, can you just imagine it?”  He flashes a smile at her.

“But you’re an Old One Jude…other vampires should fear you like they fear Wyndam.”

“Whatever for… because I’ve managed to survive for close to a millennium? Fear isn’t my thing sweet pea. I like to think that I’ve managed to garner respect for living as long as I have without meeting the pointy end of a piece of wood.”

“But I can imagine you could scare someone if you put your mind to it.” It isn’t a question and Harper regards her.

“I suppose that I could.” he ponders the idea and then shakes his head. “It’s been far too long; I’ve almost forgotten how to do it, to scare someone. I’d really rather not. I happen to like these funny little humans we co-exist beside for all their traits, their foibles and their faults. I was one once upon a time and so were you, Eleanor and even Edgar Wyndam himself now imagine that!” He wiggles his eyebrows and has the satisfaction of hearing Jessie giggle. He sits forwards and rests his elbow on the table. He stretches his arms out in front of them and clasps his hands together. He can see chalk dust under the fingernails and ingrained in the cuticles. He looks at her.

“When did Donovan Flynn show up?” he enquires quietly and she flicks a nervous glance his way before reaching for her cup once more. Harper waits patiently as she drinks.

“It must’ve been sometime either late last night or early this morning because he was just there when I got up and Eleanor made no mention of us having guests.”

Harper slowly nods. “And what do you know about him?” He’s careful to keep the tone level.

“Nothing, except his name and the fact that he’s Irish.”

“And the fact that you don’t like him,” Harper tags on and she shrugs.

“There’s that too,” she concedes.

“I think that’s more of a Mitchell thing than anything else, am I right?” Jessie shrugs again but he can see the faint bloom of roses in her cheeks. He supposes that seventy five years of vitriol being poured into her ear has to account for something.

“Eleanor hasn’t mentioned Flynn to you before?” He watches her shake her head.

“I would’ve remembered. Why are you asking me all these questions?” Harper takes a breath and he looks at her. He pauses, he thinks and he takes a slow breath.

“A century ago, Donovan Flynn and Lily Vale were legendary.  She was his tutor and he was her devoted pupil. He was dedicated to her and everyone thought it was mutual but he soon realised it was rather one sided. She dumped him quite unceremoniously and not long afterwards met John Mitchell. He didn’t take it very well and he tried to get Lily back. It didn’t succeed and a while later Mitchell killed Lily.”

He watches Jessie’s eyes go round.

“So you think he’s back and looking for revenge?”

Harper slowly nods. “I’m almost certain of it, and because Mitchell is off the blood, he thinks he’ll be weak, even more so now he’s forming human relationships. He thinks he’s gone soft with sobriety.”

“I thought Eleanor wanted revenge because of Lily….” She frowns and then shakes her head.

“And she does but an edict came down from Wyndam that Mitchell was not to be punished by anyone for what he had done. I’m thinking that Eleanor has been feeding you this vitriol and she’s brought Flynn in to make sure that the job is done.”

“But if Wyndam said….”

“She’s an Old One sweet pea, she thinks she’s invincible and I’m also thinking she’s hoping old Edgar will have forgotten his decree…”

“But you don’t think so?”

A far away expression enters Harper’s eyes. “He doesn’t forget anything, ever,” he murmurs. Jessie regards him. That sounds personal, as if he’s speaking from experience.

“Do you know Wyndam?” she asks and he flicks a startled look her way.

“We haven’t seen each other for a long, long time,” _Centuries._ “But yeah, I know him.” He frowns very slightly, his eyes growing distant again. She wants to ask him what he’s like, whether the stories about him are true or not but there’s something about his demeanour that makes her hold her tongue. Harper takes a breath.

“You need to be cautious Jessie. Over the decades Eleanor has been drip feeding you poison about Mitchell…how he must be punished for what he did to her beloved Lily. She wants you to kill him, I almost believe that she’s gearing you up to do exactly that and once you do, her mission will be accomplished and she won’t have any further use for you.”

“She would never abandon me Jude, she’s taken care of me for seventy five years!” she exclaims in horror.

“And she will continue to do so until the moment that she achieves her objective. She wants her revenge sweet pea and you and Flynn will be collateral damage. Wyndam does not want his star pupil hurt and when he finds out what is going on he will go ballistic and believe me you don’t want to be around for that.” He waits. “Let’s say you’re successful and you or Flynn kill Mitchell, then what? You’ll succeed in attracting the wrath of God down on your heads for disobeying a specific order from on high and what will Eleanor do or say? Nothing, she will plead ignorance.”

“She knows we’re not to hurt Mitchell, she told me herself.”

“But she thinks that she’s being clever, that she’s being subtle. She’s telling you that you aren’t allowed to hurt him but at the same time she’s putting the idea in your head that you could anyway if you wanted to, that she wouldn’t tell.” He watches her.

“My going after Mitchell is personal Jude; it has nothing to do with Eleanor or her agenda or whatever. It’s my decision, my choice!” she argues.

“Fuelled by what Jessie? Has Eleanor been actively telling you not to go ahead, to not harm him? She knows you inside out my darling.  She knows that you’re unhappy and that you’re fixated on him. The nurse at the hospital, at that concert? I’ve been keeping a surreptitious eye on Mitchell and I’ve seen you lurking more than once. How do you think I found you?” He reaches for her and covers one wrist with his hand. “Wyndam’s rage is terrible to witness and Eleanor is like all other vampires in that she will say anything, _do_ anything to save her own skin. In the face of Edgar Wyndam she will lie and say that she knew nothing about what happened or what was planned and she’s an Old One, she doesn’t expect to be questioned. Failing that she will throw herself at his mercy and you and Flynn to the lions.” He sees the shock in Jessie’s eyes as she absorbs this information.

“But she’s taken care of me all this time,” she whispers. He gently tightens his grip.

“Until you do what she ultimately wants. Lily was her girl, her pride and joy and she would trample over you without another thought if it meant getting her precious girl back somehow.” He watches tears shimmer in her eyes.

“How do I know you’re not just making this up… how do you know all of this anyway?” she struggles to hold onto her composure. Harper lets go of her wrist, sits back and shrugs lazily.

“You don’t and that’s where the issue of trust comes into it I’m also not trying to turn you against your sire. Donovan Flynn killed his did you know?” He watches her eyes widen with horror. “That’s a strict no-no in our world whether you feed or you don’t. You don’t kill the person who made you whether you’re forsaken or not. I’m sure there are people out looking for him for that alone.”

“Forsaken?”

Harper’s smile is brief.

“Yes, forsaken. Those of us who choose not to feed are known as The Forsaken. We’ve been around for as long as there have been vampires, we’re two sides of the same coin,” he admits. “My sire was one of the original Forsaken, he was timeless.”

“Yet he was ended. By whom?” Harper looks away but not before she sees the pain in his eyes.

“Who do you think Jessie?” He waits for her to join the dots.

“Edgar Wyndam?” she breathes in horror.

“The one and the same,” he confirms and he watches as she gapes at him, horror-struck.

“I have a network in place Jessie; of spies and informants and it’s one that I actively cultivate and have kept in place since Matthew died. I have people that I trust and they keep me informed of what is going on in our world. It’s how I knew about Flynn and Lily and Eleanor, how I know about Mitchell, Herrick, Wyndam. It could also be the reason why I’ve survived for so long. Wyndam may say that fear is power but personally I believe that it’s knowledge.” He smiles briefly at her. “I keep tabs on Wyndam and I do not doubt for a second that he keeps tabs on me too. Like I said, we’re two sides of the same coin, we’re both the same but then we’re not.”

“So you want to keep Mitchell alive?”

Harper inclines his head. “I do.”

“But why?”

“Once upon a time Mitchell was one of the most feared and talked about vampires in existence. There are stories I’ve heard of his escapades and I don’t doubt a single word of their authenticity. Then all of a sudden he renounces blood, he travels to Vienna and he…detoxes for want of a better description. He’s Edgar Wyndam’s star pupil and he’s turned his back on his way of life. Why do you think I want to keep him alive Jessie?” he smiles. “I need to keep him away from Wyndam and his influences. What Mitchell is doing is huge; it has upset a lot of people at Head Office.”

“So he’ll become your star pupil instead of Wyndam’s.”

Harper shrugs. “With some luck, perhaps.”

“And Eleanor, Flynn, even me…we’re just annoyances, distractions?” Her voice becomes sharp. Harper’s expression changes. His eyes become soft with sympathy.

“Yes to Eleanor and to Flynn but not you, you’re none of those. You’re my sweet pea but you need to understand that whatever path you’re heading down regarding Mitchell it’s a waste of time and energy and you’re far too… _special_ to me to sacrifice. I wish you’d see that for yourself.”

“What are you going to do?” Her head is spinning from Harper’s unexpected admission.

“Whatever I have to.”

“I could go to Eleanor right now and tell her what you’ve just told me,” she tells him and he regards her steadily.

“So you could and I can’t stop you and I won’t. It won’t change the course I’m planning to take which means the choice is yours sweet pea.”

 

 


	14. Chapter Fourteen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relationships become deeper and Flynn begins to put his plan into action....

**Chapter Fourteen:**

 As Mitchell parks the car outside of her building Shannon unfastens her seatbelt and turns in her seat to look at him.

“Will you stay?” she asks him.

“Excuse me?” he stutters, his brain going suddenly blank. She shrugs awkwardly.

“It’s just that you haven’t since the weekend…I’d like you to unless you have plans?”

He thinks of his depressingly poky little flat and the long sleepless hours of loneliness that lie in store for him. “No…ummm…okay.”

She flashes a smile at him and gets out of the car.  Mitchell sighs slowly and shakily and slowly uncurls his fingers from the steering wheel. Nerves bounce around in the pit of his stomach. _He can do this._ He’s been feeling reasonably calm lately but the encounter with Flynn at the hospital has thrown him off a little bit. He takes a breath and gets out of the car. He pauses by the door and as he locks it, he looks up and down the street. His gaze takes in the cars parked outside of various properties and he scrutinises them for a moment. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around at this time of the morning but he doesn’t let down his guard.

“Mitchell?” He starts slightly when he hears her call out his name and sees her standing beside the front door. He smiles faintly and follows her.

He stands in the middle of the small living room and takes in his surroundings. It’s tidy; everything has its place in this room. His looks like a grenade has been thrown into it and the after effects left where they fall. Maybe all she’ll want to do is sleep. He turns when he hears her footsteps.

“There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom and plenty of towels if you want to grab a shower,” she tells him. She walks towards him and she stops when she’s close enough for him to reach out and touch her. She smiles and his is tentative in response.

Maybe she just wants to sleep.

She stands on tiptoe and she kisses him. His response is automatic. His hands reach for her. She’s warm, she smells amazing and oh Christ she’s sexy as all get out. Her mouth is soft and warm on his. He feels need rise inside of him.

Maybe she doesn’t.

* * *

 

He sleeps like the dead.

Shannon climbs back into bed and for a moment she just watches him. She has got up once or twice to use the loo, she has actually climbed over him and he hasn’t stirred. He hasn’t moved at all. He lies on his back with his head turned slightly away from her and he is sound asleep. He hasn’t got up to go to the toilet or anything, it was lights out and he was gone. She envies him that ability. It takes her a little time to wind down before she can actually get to sleep but it seems as though Mitchell doesn’t have this. She lies down beside him but she’s awake now, her mind is buzzing. She rolls onto her back and stares up at the ceiling.

“Hey.” His voice is low and sleepy. She turns her head and looks at him.

“I thought you were asleep.” Slowly he turns his head and he regards her. His eyes are drowsy.

“I was.” He slowly rolls onto his side to look at her directly.  “What’s the matter, can’t you sleep?”

“No, my brain is wide awake and it’s ages til I have to get up again.”

He reaches for her and he scoots a bit closer and she rests her head in the hollow of his shoulder. He slips his arm around her. “Shut your eyes.”

“I’ve just told you I can’t sleep Mitchell, shutting my eyes isn’t going to help.”

“Then don’t make me sing to you, my lullabies have been known to maim,” he answers and he smiles slowly when he hears her chuckle. He looks at her. “What? it’s a fact.” Her golden brown eyes are sparkling and it makes him smile all the more. She reaches for him and she feels emotions stir when he responds. He rolls onto his back and takes her  with him. His hands grasp the hem of the oversized t-shirt she’s wearing and he pulls it over her head.

“Or there are other ways to help you sleep.” His eyes are solemn for a brief moment.

Her skin is so pale. He watches her red hair tumble untidily around her shoulders. He sees that purple tattoo once more. He wants her; oh God he really wants this, this time with her. He waits and he prepares himself for that internal battle. He’s done it before, he can do it again. Need rises inside of him and his eyes close when he feels her mouth cover his. He just needs to be careful, he needs to try and stay in control.  His hands touch warm skin and he feels how she responds to him. He can hear how her heart accelerates, how her breathing changes. It’s the most powerful of aphrodisiacs to him.

_Ah Jesus there he is_ … His fingers tighten briefly on her hips.

_No. No. No._

His eyes open as she moves her head to kiss the side of his neck and he knows that they’re black. He takes a panicked breath and they slide shut when she moves her head again.

“Mitchell…” she whispers. Mentally he counts to three.

“Hey…” He feels her hands stroking him and it feels nice, actually it feels better than nice. Her mouth feels warm against his skin and he feels the softness of her hair brush his chest. Something else swells inside of him, something calmer.

“Mitchell…” she repeats and he hears the concern in her voice. Slowly, experimentally he opens his eyes. He looks up at her and watches the mild frown dissipate.

“Where did you go to before?” she asks in a low curious voice. He stares at her. He lifts a shaky hand and lays his palm against the side of her face.

“Nowhere,” he whispers and he draws her head down to his again.

* * *

 

He watches her battle with her choice.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers. Harper sits forward once more and he reaches for her hand. He slides his fingers in between hers and lifts her hand.

“I’m not one to push or force choices on other people. If you want to tell Eleanor what I’ve just told you then by all means do it. All it means is that she’ll keep her eyes open for me and that I’ll be an extra player in her game, one that she really won’t want. She knows me, she knows I won’t give up and it may make her think again.”

“But you don’t think so?”

He slowly shakes his head. “If you weren’t so intent on ending Mitchell then you could always leave Eleanor and come here. You could be with me.” He watches how her eyes slowly widen. He looks away and instead concentrates on their entwined hands. “But it has to be your choice completely and on your own terms. I don’t have an ulterior motive except harbouring feelings that perhaps I have no right in harbouring. Ultimately I want you to feel safe and you will be safe here I promise you.” Her mouth drops open at his confession.

“But you’re an Old One…aren’t you above…” Words fail her. He shrugs.

“No, I’m not,” he replies simply and slowly he lowers her hand onto the table and releases his hold on her. He stares at her hand and then gently pats it.  He sits back in his chair and he gets to his feet.

“I’m going to go back to work for a bit now. Why don’t you take a look around and make yourself at home?” he invites with a sweep of a hand. Jessie can only nod and she watches him stride out of the kitchen and towards his conservatory. She sits absolutely still feeling completely dumbstruck. She’s overwhelmed by his confession that he has feelings for her and also that he thinks that he feels unworthy of them. She turns her head in the direction of the conservatory and she can see him standing in front of an easel with a deep frown on his face.

* * *

 

He lifts his head slightly when he sees her walk towards him. His eyes are wary but they don’t leave her face as she pauses. She’s standing in his line of vision but behind the easel that he’s examining. He draws the cloth over it as she steps around it and her eyes don’t leave his face.

“Nobody has ever told me that they had…feelings…for me before,” she confesses.

“How does it make you feel?” he asks his voice becoming husky. He watches how her expression changes. A slow smile emerges.

“I…like it,” she whispers. She sees the surprise cross his face.

“R…really?” She nods. She takes another slow tentative step towards him. The expression remains on his face for a moment and then just like that it disappears.

“Just a minute…this isn’t you having me on is it?” he asks suspiciously. She halts in front of him and her eyes widen with shock.

“You’re joking right? After everything we’ve talked about…” she exclaims and regret at his hastily spoken words flashes across his face. He reaches for her, his hands resting on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry…sometimes my mouth engages before my brain, it’s been a while you see, since I’ve had anything like this happen to me. It makes me foolish.” He watches and he hopes. Instead she sighs noisily.

“Honestly I don’t know…” she begins and then squeaks as he suddenly pulls her towards him and he kisses her. She exhales as they pull apart and she stares at him with wide eyes.

“Jude!” she whispers. He frowns.

“Shouldn’t I have done that?” he asks and a softer, more knowing smile slips across his face at her silence.

* * *

 

When she opens her eyes, she’s alone in the bed. She sits bolt upright and her eyes are wide. Where has he gone? She turns her head as the door opens and she smiles in relief when she sees him appear.  He’s carrying two cups which he places on the bedside cabinet. She remains still as he slides back into the bed and then hands her one of the cups. She accepts it with a shy smile, her initial fear beginning to subside.

“I thought you’d left,” Jessie confesses and he frowns at her.

“And gone where? This is my house remember?” His tone is gently teasing and she feels a blush begin. Instead she takes a sip of her tea.

“After what we did…and that I was…” she stutters and she looks away.

“And that you were what…a virgin?” It isn’t an accusation and she shrugs awkwardly, embarrassed.

“You’re shocked aren’t you?” she retorts, lowering the cup. She steals another glance at him. He shakes his head.

“So Eleanor keeps you on a tight leash, after what went on with Lily then no, I’m not shocked.”

“But I was…”

“Darling Jessie, no you weren’t. You were everything and more,” he whispers and watches her smile.

“So what happens now?” she asks him and he regards her carefully.

“What do you want to happen?”

She shrugs again. “There’s so much…you’re an Old One and you’re forsaken and I’m…not.” Her words stumble over themselves and she feels herself going hot and cold.

“Do you want to be?” he asks and her expression is wary. Once more she shrugs.

“I don’t know…what does it mean?”

“It means giving up blood permanently, choosing not to feed. I’ll be honest, it’s not for everyone and it certainly isn’t easy but if you want to, I  can help you, I’d be with you every step of the way.” He watches the unease cross her face. “It has to be your choice Jessie, I won’t place conditions on what we have but what I am is a big part of who I am. I haven’t tasted human blood in over five hundred years.” He tells her and he sees her look of shock.

“But you said Matthew was one of the original Forsaken…wouldn’t he have kept you away from blood?”

“He used his blood to change me but he didn’t force his belief onto me. He guided me, he mentored me but what I ultimately chose was my decision alone. I’d only been clean for fifty years when he was…taken from me.”

“So you…”

“Fed? Killed? Oh yes. I suppose in a way I was like Mitchell. At my peak I felt invincible.” A smile ghosts across his face at the ancient memory.

“So what changed?” The smile vanishes as he looks at her once more.

“I got bored. It sickened me and there was Matthew, patient Matthew who was just waiting for me to come to my senses and I did. He knew me well.”

“If you decide…well I want it to be of your own free will. I’m sure we can reach a compromise or something in the meantime.” He smiles hesitantly. He then sighs noisily and pulls one hand through already untidy hair.

“This is new for me too. Drink your tea; I’m sure we’ll figure it out as we go along.” He flashes that smile at her again.

* * *

 

It’s much later and the sun is sinking in the sky. Jessie has spent a little while sitting in the garden, listening to the breeze rustle through the leaves of the tree and letting the peace envelop her. She knows that she has to return home, Eleanor will be wondering where she is. She knows that she isn’t happy with her disappearing acts and she wonders how she’ll react when she discovers who she’s been spending time with. She turns her head when she sees Jude emerge from the conservatory, a jacket in his hand.

“There you are. Let me drive you home.” She watches him slide his jacket on. She gets to her feet and turns to face him.

“Not yet…” Her voice falters and he pauses and he looks enquiringly at her.

“Why not?” He watches her walk towards him. She pauses and looks into his eyes.  She reaches for the lapels and she holds onto them. Her eyes drop down and she stares at the buttons of his shirt for a moment before they track back up to his face.

“I want to be with you Jude…but I need to choose my moment. Eleanor has Mitchell fixed in her head like a target and she won’t welcome any kind of distraction.”

“You need to walk away from that Jessie and you need to walk away from it now.”

“I can’t. For seventy five years he has been my target too, I can’t just switch it off just because you say so, because of my feelings for you.” She shakes her head. His hands gently grasp her shoulders and he gives her a little, impatient shake.

“What if I can get you both together in a room to talk?”

“He doesn’t even know I’m a vampire Jude.”

“I can tell him, I can explain.”

Jessie slowly shakes her head. “I don’t want you to.”

“Then he will kill you. Has nothing I’ve said to you even registered? What are you going to say to him, hmmm? And how do you really think he’ll respond to you? Mitchell is one of a kind and just because he is on the wagon does not mean that he will spare you or show you any feelings of remorse, or guilt or sorrow. You go at him with the intent of ending him; he will take you out without another thought or question asked.” He takes an impatient breath. “And if Mitchell doesn’t end you then you can be guaranteed that Wyndam will and he is much worse.” He glares at her.

They stare at each other. He releases his hold on her.

“Fine.” He begins to turn away.

“Jude…” She reaches for him but his arm comes up, a clear signal for her not to touch him and hurt she pauses.

“Okay…I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you why I have it in for him,” she concedes and slowly he turns back and he regards her and he waits. She sighs tiredly.

“I read my youngest brother’s obituary in the local newspaper just after Christmas. When I… _left_ , he was just a child. His name was Albert and he was such a baby but I adored him. After Eleanor recruited me, I missed him so much but gradually that faded and he was just an ache in my heart, someone I thought about from time to time.” She pauses and Harper watches her expression become so sad.

“He lived such a grand life. The obituary listed all of his achievements; he got married, had children, grandchildren and great grandchildren and they all loved him. It just got me thinking that I should’ve been there, I should’ve been part of that.” She blinks away encroaching tears. Harper takes a step towards her.

“I should’ve had all of those opportunities. I wanted to be an actress, work my way up you know, tread the boards and be discovered that way, become a big Hollywood star and I would’ve if it hadn’t been for _him._ ”

“Who…Mitchell?” Jessie nods and she frowns.

“Yes Mitchell. He came into the teashop where I worked and he made a beeline for me. He charmed me, courted me and invited me to this wonderful party that he promised me would be attended by all of these bigwigs who could help my career and like a fool I believed him.” He listens as her voice becomes bitter, he hears how it tremors with it.

“A vampire party.” His voice is faint with recognition and remembrance. They still have those?

“And I was the entertainment. They drugged my champagne and they fed from me…well Eleanor did…to the point of death…I remember being so scared, seeing their black eyes, those fangs, it was terrifying. Mitchell took me there and he left me there and it was then that I realised what he was, what he _really_ was.” Tears well in her eyes.

“And that was when Eleanor recruited you?” She nods again. Harper sighs and bridges the gap between them.

“So you hold Mitchell responsible for what happened to you?” He draws her into his arms and just holds her against him for a moment. He frowns.

“The first few days after recruitment are hazy days for the best of us, we don’t know where we are, who we are never mind what the hell is going on. We’re ripe for manipulation, we hunger for blood and we’re so vulnerable.” He draws her back and looks into her eyes. They’re still so sad, so tragic. “Eleanor lost her prize twice over; she lost her to Mitchell twice over, in love and in death. She thirsted for revenge and you my darling were the perfect pawn. She’s been biding her time, working to this conclusion but reading your brother’s obituary brought it all to a head for you didn’t it?” She moves away from him.

“What are you going to do if you do kill him Jessie? It won’t make those empty feelings go away, you might think that it will but it won’t. I’ve dreamed about taking revenge on Wyndam so many times, it used to eat at me like a disease. Then I decided to seek a different kind of revenge.”

“By not feeding?” He hears the scorn in her voice. He shrugs.

“It’s one way and another way is for me to take Wyndam’s star pupil and turn him into something Wyndam will hate.”

“Someone like you. How do you know Mitchell would go for it?  You keep telling me that he’s very headstrong and independent.”

“He might and then again he might not, I won’t know until I talk to him. You could help me; we could talk to him together.”

“But I’m not forsaken.”

“You could tell him what you told me.”

“And he’ll laugh in my face.”

“He probably will but would you be willing to find out? I need to find him Jessie and I need to warn him about Eleanor. If he’s got even half of the intelligence that I think he has, he’ll already know something is up. There was a vampire attack a couple of days close to where his lady friend lives.” He watches Jessie’s eyes widen with shock and then change as something obviously occurs to her.

“What do you know about it?”

“Eleanor and Jimmy went out that night, didn’t tell me where they were going or why and previously they were talking about Mitchell’s nurse girlfriend and laughing about it.”

“Eleanor is going after her...somehow I’m not in the least bit surprised and it was after that that Flynn showed up?” Jessie just nods. Harper sighs and scrubs at his face with his hands.

“I need to find Mitchell,” he mutters to himself.

“And tell him what?” Harper stares at her, his eyes widening slightly at her sharp tone.

“I need to tell him what’s going on, to warn him and his girlfriend.” He drops his hands by his side. “I have no idea where he’s living, my network have so far been unable to discover that piece of information but I do know where he works but not what shift…is he on nightshift still…when do their shifts switch?” He sees the baffled expression on her face and he shakes his head.

“Never mind, I can find out. Come along, where can I drop you off?” He pats down his jacket pockets and takes out a set of car keys.

* * *

 

 She lets herself into the house. It’s early evening and so quiet. She listens but doesn’t hear any movement, or voices or signs of occupation. She sighs quietly.

“And where have _you_ been?” Flynn’s voice makes her start violently. She turns her head and she sees him standing on the bottom step and she glares at him.

“None of your business,” she retorts.

 He raises a sceptical eyebrow as he comes down the last step. “Really?” He watches as she goes to move past him and at the last minute his hand clamps around her upper arm.

“You’re stunning do you know that? Mitchell had exquisite taste when he chose you and obviously Eleanor knew that too otherwise she would’ve let you die at that party. I wonder whether she knows how you’re repaying her kindness.”

“Excuse me?” He tightens his grip very slightly and watches her wince.

“Keeping company with Jude Harper? Oh very well done my darling…Eleanor will be very proud of you when she finds out.” He smiles “Because she doesn’t know does she, that you’re sleeping with an Old One…and don’t deny it sweetheart because I can smell him on you.” He closes his eyes and he inhales deeply. “Oh yes, he’s had some of you alright,” he murmurs and she shudders. His eyes open and fix on her.

“She won’t be happy at all when she finds that bit out,” he threatens and he waits a beat.

“But she won’t if you help me out with something tonight.” He slowly smiles. “How are you fixed for a night out?”


	15. Chapter Fifteen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those wheels are beginning to turn... the calm before the storm...

**Chapter Fifteen.**

The hospital is still busy at this time of the early evening. Harper takes his time as he heads towards the cafeteria and he hopes that Mitchell is there. He has no idea about hospital shifts or the like. He could be off today and if that’s the case then he’s royally screwed.

He stands just inside of the entrance and his eyes search for him. He doesn’t see him but that could mean that he’s working and isn’t taking a break just yet. He heads to the counter and buys a cup of coffee. He finds a table easily and slides onto a vacant chair and prepares to wait.

* * *

 

Shannon pours white wine into two glasses and hands one to Abby. She watches her friend drop down onto the sofa and she regards her. She looks pretty in her short black dress, her red hair gleams in the light.

“What time will Mitchell be here?” she enquires. Slowly Shannon sits down beside her.

“Seven,” she supplies.

“You hope.”

“He’s usually a pretty good time keeper and he did promise not to be late.” She sighs when she sees the expression on her friend’s face. “I wish that you’d give him a chance. He’s a nice guy, a bit quiet but underneath that surface, he’s…sweet.”

Abby rolls her eyes. “Sweet? Did you see how he handled that patient in A and E yesterday? That wasn’t someone you would class as _sweet_!” she exclaims.

“He came to my aid Abby, he helped me out of a potentially sticky situation and that patient was mentally…unbalanced.” She shivers when she remembers the gleam in Mr Flynn’s eyes. Abby doesn’t respond and takes a sip of her wine instead.

“I don’t want to argue with you about him tonight. Mitchell is…Mitchell. He’s a nice bloke, he’s quiet, he’s kind and he doesn’t put any pressure on me to be anyone or anything that I’m not and frankly that’s a relief after some of the freaks I’ve dated in the past,” Shannon defends. Abby regards her and she sighs almost theatrically.

“Oh all right, point made. I’ll be nice to him, for you.” Her eyes twinkle and Shannon smiles.

“Please, don’t make it sound like such a sacrifice but thank you, I appreciate it.” Abby grins at her and takes another mouthful of wine. There’s a quiet knock on the door and Shannon turns her head towards it. She glances at Abby one more time.

“That’ll be Mitchell,” she murmurs.

* * *

 

He straightens up when he hears the scrape of a lock being turned. The door opens but only part way, restrained the rest of the way by a chain. He smiles faintly when he sees Shannon take a peek through.

“Just a minute,” she tells him and she closes the door to and releases the chain. She opens the door wider and she smiles at him. “You’re right on time.”

“I said I would be.” He enters and he draws her into his arms. His hug is brief, his kiss on her cheek just as perfunctory. As he straightens up he sees Abby seated on the sofa and he stiffens slightly. Shannon looks over her shoulder at her before glancing back at Mitchell.

“I did tell you we’d be going to the party with Abby didn’t I?”

He slowly nods; he hasn’t forgotten but Abby makes him a little bit wary. She hasn’t done a lot to hide her disdain of him but as Shannon has told him, it’s more to do with his job than his personality. He looks back at Shannon and he smiles again.

“It’s fine,” he reassures her. He holds onto her hand and follows her further into the small living room. There’s a bottle of wine and a half filled glass on the coffee table. Shannon releases his hand and she smiles at him once more.

“Would you like some wine Mitchell?” she enquires.

“Yeah, that would be nice thanks,” he replies and he slowly sits down on an armchair and watches Abby warily. She sits forward, he glass resting loosely between her fingers.

“How are you doing Mitchell?” she asks and he frowns very slightly. He’s listening for the barb in her voice but tonight he doesn’t seem to hear it.

“I’m fine…You?”

She shrugs languidly. “Can’t complain though I’m looking forward to the party. David’s such a lovely bloke, it should be a laugh.” Mitchell is saved from responding by Shannon’s return. She’s carrying a spare wine glass which she puts on the coffee table. He watches her pour a healthy measure and hand it to him. He smiles his thanks.

He remembers the last time he sat in this room and drank wine. He’d ended up pretty drunk but the night had ended memorably and memorable for all the right reasons. He glances at Shannon. She’s doing the same thing and he’ll swear blind that she’s remembering the same evening. He glances away.

The wine is consumed and they leave the flat. Mitchell waits beside Abby as Shannon locks the door and drops her keys into her handbag.

It’s still light outside as they emerge onto the street. Shannon links his arm and they walk companionably. It’s a mild evening and the breeze feels soft against his skin. Abby walks on his other side. She looks pretty in her black dress and her dark red hair. He’s getting used to it and it does suit her. He keeps catching a drift of her perfume and it’s spicy compared to the sweetly floral one that Shannon seems to favour. Apart from that, tonight they are two peas in a pod.

They grab a cab which takes them the rest of the way, stopping outside of a pub that isn’t that far away from the hospital. Mitchell pays the cabbie and refuses both Abby and Shannon’s offer to split the fare. He glances at Shannon and he smiles at her.

“Just buy me a pint later and we’ll be square,” he tells her instead and she just grins.

* * *

 

He feels nervous as he follows the girls into the function room. There will be people with cameras around tonight wanting to mark this occasion and he’s going to have to think quickly on his feet to avoid being included in photographs. He sighs shakily and Shannon glances at him. She takes his hand and squeezes it encouragingly.

“You’ll be fine.” He sends her a weak smile. He feels like hiding away. There are a lot of people he doesn’t know here tonight.

He remembers times gone by, when vampires used to look at him and speculate. He was Big Bad John, a legend by all accounts. He tended not to listen to gossip but once in a while Herrick liked to fill him on what was being discussed. Part of him seemed to like the interest, another part seemed to resent it. Herrick was the man in charge, he was supposed to be the one with the cachet, the one to create the fear in another’s eyes. Mitchell was only supposed to be his right hand man, his enforcer and yet he was the one everyone talked about.

In his new state he prefers the anonymity but it seems it does not prefer him.

They find a table and commandeer it. He looks at Shannon.

“What do you want to drink?” he asks and she smiles at him.

“White wine please,” she answers and he nods. He looks to Abby and she requests the same. He heads to the bar.

Abby watches him for a moment and she leans towards Shannon and there’s a little smile on her face. “He scrubs up nice, your porter.” Her smile widens when she sees her roll her eyes. “I’m trying to be nice. He looks good. Maybe I was wrong about him.”

Shannon turns her attention to Mitchell who is standing at the bar. He seems to be talking to someone and she watches for a moment and recognises him as being one of the porters from the hospital. She sighs and smiles faintly. She could tell straight away that Mitchell was nervous about tonight and it touched her. He’s such an enigma, a mystery. He’s quiet and often seemingly lost in thought. Initially she thought he was just shy but now she doesn’t think that’s the case. He seems cautious and she wonders whether it’s because he doesn’t like the sight of blood. She remembers how he had reacted that first time in the A and E department. It’s not something a man would like to get out. She watches how he smiles. It makes her heart jump in her chest. He doesn’t smile often. He laughs even less. Presently he returns, deftly balancing three glasses in his hands. She watches him lower the glasses onto the table and push the wine glasses in front of Abby and herself. He slides onto the vacant seat beside Shannon and slides an arm across the back of her chair. It’s a subtle message but it’s territorial all the same. She leans into him a little. Their relationship will be news to a lot of staff, some who share the same opinion that Abby does. She’s a nurse and he’s a porter. She doesn’t care. She turns her head and she looks at him. He smiles at her and she senses his surprise as she moves closer to him and kisses his cheek. She sees the pleasure in his eyes.

* * *

 

Jessie has a very bad feeling about tonight. She pulls on tight black jeans and an equally tight fitting t-shirt of hot bubble gum pink. She piles up her black hair in a haphazard fashion and secures it with a hair tie and a variety of bobby pins. She’s been around for long enough to be able to do her make up without the need for a mirror. If there’s one single thing that she dislikes about being a vampire then it’s the lack of a reflection. People today take it for granted but she would love to have the opportunity to see her reflection in the mirror once more, to be able to try on a new outfit and see for herself whether it suits her or not. She pulls on black Doc Martens and a leather biker jacket. Eleanor hates it when she dresses up lie this but she likes it, she sees it as her own little act of rebellion. In her mind she’s still an eighteen year old girl. She pauses in the middle of her room and she frowns slightly. Harper has gone to look for Mitchell at the hospital and she has no way of getting in touch with him. There’s a brief tap on her bedroom door and as she swings around, she sees Flynn standing there. He takes in her attire and smiles humourlessly.

“Oh how very…rebellious sweetheart. Are you ready?”

“I don’t want to do this, it’s a bad idea,” she tells him and he raises an eyebrow.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, just for your company,” he retorts and she sighs.

“I have a really bad feeling about this Flynn, that’s all. Maybe we should wait.” She stiffens as he takes a sudden hostile step towards her, stopping just millimetres away from her.

“Wait for what exactly? Eleanor’s permission? Hell will freeze over before that will happen. She’s so hell bent on doing things her way. She needs a rocket up her arse not this surreptitious cloak and dagger shite. Mitchell needs to be punished, he needs to be taught a lesson _now_.” His eyes narrow. “If you don’t want to come along then that’s fine sweetheart but do you really want her to find out about your relationship with Mr Harper?” His gaze is steady upon her face. “I really wouldn’t want to be around when she finds out.” His voice lowers to a whisper and she glares at him.

“You both have the same goal in mind; surely it would make sense to wait, to collaborate?”

Flynn sighs impatiently. “I don’t have time. I want this over with, I’ve waited long enough and I am not the most patient of souls to begin with, which she knows.”

“And how do you think she’ll react when she finds out that you’ve done this?” Jessie demands and Flynn sighs roughly as he rolls his eyes.

“To be honest sweetheart, as soon as that bastard is dust, I plan to be out of here. Eleanor is just a convenience, a means to an end. He pauses a beat and holds out a hand. “Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“If you want to keep your relationship with a certain Old One secret then no, you don’t,” he replies. She sighs irritably and storms past, ignoring his outstretched hand.

* * *

 

A disco has started up at the other end of the function room. Mitchell can feel the beat vibrate through his body. He watches groups of people gyrating on the dance floor, the bright myriad of coloured lights washing over their faces, their bodies. He barely remembers the age of disco. Oh he was around but he chooses not to remember. Some of the music was okay, it had a beat that he could relate to but some of the fashions, in hindsight, weren’t so wonderful. He glances down at his legs, at the tight black jeans he wears. He never got the whole idea of flares himself and the least said about platform shoes and the happier he’ll be. It was the era that fashion forgot. He was thankful for the arrival of punk. He lifts his head slightly and sees Shannon across the room. She’s talking to David and he watches how she interacts, how she laughs and smiles. He envies her that ability. During his human days he didn’t have that knack and maybe that helped with his promotion through the army ranks. His men respected him and he didn’t achieve that by becoming their friends. Oh, he was loyal to them when it mattered but he wouldn’t have said they were friends, there were no cosy chats in the trenches. He turns in his seat and he sees Abby out of the corner of his eye. She’s sipping at her wine and like him she’s taking in what’s going on around her. He turns more fully in his seat and he reaches for his point and takes a mouthful. He sees how she observes him and as he lowers his glass, he shuffles along in his seat and leans towards her.

“You should go over and talk to them,” he tells her. He waits for the scathing remark that is sure to follow but instead she looks away and shakes her head. It makes him frown. “Why not?”

She looks back at him. “Because Shannon is the popular one, everyone loves her.”

Mitchell doesn’t reply. He regards her steadily and just waits. He watches how she straightens and reaches for her wine glass once more.

“You know what I’m talking about, she just has that… _ability_ to make friends and make people feel comfortable. I should be able to do that but I just can’t.”

He watches her take another healthy swallow of her wine.

“You’re a good nurse Abby, you keep a cool head in an emergency and that’s what’s important,” he reminds her. She all but rolls her eyes at him.

“But keeping a cool head and being popular aren’t mutually exclusive. I’d love just an ounce of Shannon’s popularity,” she confesses. She drains her glass and places it on the already cluttered table top. She looks at him again. “She champions people and causes and such like. She just has a natural warmth to her that I can only ever dream about.”

Mitchell frowns slightly.

“She’s really keen on you, I’ve never seen her like this over a bloke, ever.”

“She’s dated a lot then?” The thought of her having boyfriends before him feels a little alien but she’s stunning so he’s not in the least bit surprised. He hasn’t exactly been a monk himself.

Abby shakes her head. “Not loads; a few of them were odd balls. One was possessive to the point of stalker, another loved football above her and another…well it turned out he played for the other side if you see what I mean.” Mitchell’s eyes widen briefly as he makes the connection. Abby reaches for her glass once more and she pouts when she realises that it’s still empty. Mitchell gets to his feet and reaches for it at the same time.

“Let’s get you a refill eh?” he suggests with a smile.

* * *

 

Shannon returns to the table feeling a little bit guilty for leaving Mitchell alone for so long and with Abby as company too. She can imagine the possibility of fireworks there so she pauses when she sees that it’s empty. The table has been cleared of empty glasses and there are two half full ones left; a wine glass and a pint glass. She looks to the dance floor. It’s equally full and for a moment she finds it hard to tell who is who. The music is deafening. Then her eyes widen and her jaw drops open when she sees Mitchell in the centre and he’s smiling and twirling someone under his arm. His smile widens and she watches him laugh and at the same time she recognises his partner as being Abby. Her mouth drops open in shock. Now there is a sight that she never thought she would see. Abby is giggling and smiling at him as if their conversations about him being anything but untrustworthy had never happened. She then swallows against the flare of jealousy that burns inside of her. He hasn’t ever danced with her like that, hasn’t ever asked her. It’s then that he seems to sense her because he turns his head and through the sea of gyrating bodies, he sees her. He says something to Abby and she pauses and also looks at her. Shannon straightens a little bit as together they make their way off the dance floor and head towards her.

“You’re back,” Mitchell comments and she regards him.

“And you’re dancing. With Abby.” She can’t help the sharp tone that infects her voice and he frowns at it.

“I didn’t think you’d mind, you were busy chatting with your friends,” he answers. He lifts his head slightly as Abby heads back to their table. Shannon sighs raggedly and she swallows.

“I don’t. I’m sorry, it was just so…unexpected. I thought you didn’t dance?” She looks back at him to see him shrug.

“Not very much but I’ve been known to once in a while.” He turns his head towards the DJ as one record fades out and another one begins. This one is slower, meant for couples and the romantically hopeful. He looks at her and holds out a hand.

“Coming?” he asks. He watches the ghost of a smile that crosses her face before she takes his hand.

* * *

 

Jessie walks alongside Flynn but her mind is whirring. She wishes that she could get word to Harper about what is going on. She has such a bad feeling about it. She wants to be a thousand miles away from it. It feels strange because a few weeks ago she was baying for Mitchell’s blood, taking delight in the possibility of finally getting revenge and then she went and met Jude Harper.

They pause outside of a building. She can hear loud muffled music and she looks up. She can see multi coloured lights strobe and flash through the upstairs windows and people coming and going. She looks questioningly at Flynn.

“I overheard a couple of nurses talking about a retirement party the other day, where it would be and who would be attending and it seems a certain red haired nurse and her vampire boyfriend are in attendance.” He grins at her but it disappears at her dour expression. He rolls his eyes. “Aww c’mon, it’s going to be so much fun! Isn’t this what you wanted?” When he gets no response he quietly sighs and looks at her. “The party back in twenty-five? It was Mitchell’s job to provide the entertainment and he did. It was you. You don’t like what you are any more and you hold Mitchell responsible. Eleanor thinks you’re doing her bidding but I know otherwise. You want to punish him yourself.” His easy grin reappears and he reaches inside of his jacket and pushes a stake into her hand. She looks down at it and her eyes widen when she realises the implication. She goes to drop it but his hands cover hers and tighten.

“Mitchell is a mean bastard when he’s cornered and that’s where you come in. He’ll come after me and he’ll be full of the rage from hell and that’s how I want him but I just want you to have my back. If he gets the better of me, and that’s a big if, I need you to be able to take over, to stick that thing through his heart for me. Can you do that?”

Her eyes are huge in her face as she slowly stares up at him. Her mouth goes dry. “I don’t want to do this Flynn. I think it’s a really bad idea. Wyndam said not to hurt him, that anyone who did would be punished severely.” Her voice trembles. Flynn’s eyes narrow for a brief second.

“And who told you that sweetheart? Was it Wyndam himself or was it Harper? There’s no love lost between those two. Let them fight about it between themselves. Come on, the party will be ending soon and I want you to be in position.” He holds onto her wrist and pulls her towards a nearby alleyway. Together they stand at it’s entrance. She turns her head. She can see large square metal dumpsters overflowing with a wide variety of rubbish, some of it spilling over and tumbling to the ground. It fades away into insidious blackness. She looks at him again.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Follow the alley as far as it goes and hide but stay near, you have to stay nearby. Can you do that?” She nods. He turns and looks further down the street as another crowd of people leave the pub. He looks back at her and gives her a little push further into the alley. “Go on, they’ll be out soon.”

“What if they’ve already left? What if they haven’t shown up at all?”

Flynn frowns at her

“You’re determined to be awkward tonight aren’t you? I know they’re in there, I saw them arrive and if they’ve left early then we’ll just have to arrange to do this again won’t we?” He flashes her an over confident grin and she feels the dislike swell anew.

“Go on…do as I say,” he instructs, giving her another push.

* * *

 

The party is winding down and the DJ has announced the last dance of the night. Mitchell walks with Shannon back to their table.

“Fancy a takeaway?” she suggests as she reaches for her jacket. Mitchell copies and he nods.

“Sounds good. Chinese, Indian or something else?”

She smiles at him as she picks up her handbag. “I fancy something spicy…” she confides, flashing him a wide smile.

“Oh, play your cards right and you might get a surprise,” he teases and she laughs. She then turns her head. There aren’t very many people left over and she frowns.

“Have you seen Abby?” Mitchell shakes his head and he scans the party goers still in attendance. He doesn’t see her.

“Come on, she’s probably already left. Let’s get going.” He slides an arm across her shoulders and she slips an arm around his waist and they slowly head for the exit.

“Hey!”

Shannon turns when she hears Abby’s breathless voice and she smiles at her.

“Where did you pop up from?” She watches her friend come to her other side and the three of them walk slowly, tiredly down the wide staircase towards the pub exit.

“I was in the loo, I didn’t realise that the party was over.” Shannon looks at her and briefly links her arm, hugging her close for a minute.

“Mitchell and I are going to grab a takeaway, you’re welcome to join us?” She looks at him for confirmation and he nods. Abby smiles at them both.

“No, you’re okay, playing gooseberry isn’t really my sort of thing, despite tonight.” They emerge onto the street. It’s empty and Mitchell looks up and down the road, there isn’t a cab to be seen.

“Come on, we’ll share a taxi, it can drop you off first,” Shannon suggests. Abby grins at her.

“Okay, if you must.” Shannon smiles back and she looks back at Mitchell.

“We’ll have to walk further towards the city centre, there isn’t a cab to be seen here,” he tells them and Shannon shrugs.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s a nice night.” Mitchell sends her a faint smile. Abby looks between him and Shannon and she smiles too.

“Hey Abby, do you have a minute?” a voice calls out from behind them and they turn and Shannon recognises Veronica from A and E. Abby smiles at her and then glances at Mitchell and Shannon.

“How about I catch you up? This could take a little while.”

“We can wait…” Mitchell answers with a shrug.

“Like I said, probably will take a while, go on…” Mitchell looks at Shannon who just shrugs. They both turn.

“We’ll walk extra slow,” he whispers in her ear and she chuckles.

They haven’t walked a hundred feet when they hear her scream.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All hell breaks loose and nothing will ever be the same again.

**Chapter Sixteen:**

The sound of her scream makes the hair on the back of Mitchell’s neck stand on end. He spins around and he sees a dark shape crouched over someone. Someone else is slumped up against the wall and not moving.

“ _Hey_!” he yells and he begins to run towards them. The shape moves, lifts its head and as Mitchell gets closer, he recognises him.

Donovan Flynn. He seems to wait and he grins, blood framing his mouth. At the last moment he straightens and he bolts. Mitchell glances down at the inert figure and sees that it’s Abby. Her eyes are wide and staring up at the sky and she’s twitching, a gaping wound in her neck emptying her lifeblood onto the pavement beneath her. Mitchell barely pauses as he chases after Flynn. He sees him dive around a corner and without thinking, he pursues him.

Shannon hurries after him.

“Mitchell!” she yells. She sees Veronica slumped against the wall, still, unmoving. There’s blood on her neck. It stains the front of her outfit. Her eyes widen further when she recognises Abby lying on the pavement. She looks between them both.

“Oh my God….oh Abby…” She drops to her knees beside her. Blood is pumping from a ragged wound in her neck and she frowns in distress at the pool forming on the pavement. “Oh God…Jesus…” Her hands are shaking as she reaches for her, her hand clamping on the wound. She lifts her head and she looks for Mitchell.

“ _Mitchell_!” she screams, panic swelling in her chest. She looks back down at Abby. Her eyes are wide and staring and she’s making a choking gurgling sound as she struggles to breathe. She locks panic stricken eyes with her. Her body is trembling and twitching. She lifts a hand towards her neck. Shannon reaches for it and pushes it back down.

“You’re going to be okay Abby…” She smiles into her eyes and she hopes that it doesn’t show the sheer panic in them. She’s faced with much worse in the accident and emergency department and she deals with those emergencies without fear, without panic. This is different, this is Abby and she looks like she’s been attacked by some lunatic with a knife, a lunatic that Mitchell has gone chasing after. She keeps her hand pressed against her neck wound and with the other she opens her bag and upends it. A lipstick, a purse and a phone tumble out. She scrabbles for it. She lifts her head once more.

“Mitchell…for Christ’s sake….where are you?” she yells as she keys in the emergency number.

* * *

 

He’s waiting for him in the alley. It catches Mitchell momentarily by surprise and he slows down and then stops. They stare at each other.

The alley is short but wide and he can smell the contents of the dumpsters on the still air.

“What the fuck Flynn…” he begins. Flynn’s answering grin is wide and almost proud. He wipes at his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Hey there Johnny boy, did you like your surprise?” There’s laughter in his voice. Mitchell strides towards him and he grabs him by the front of his shirt.

“My surprise? Is that what you call it?” he snarls at him.

“Your redhead…is she worth it? Or should I say _was_ she worth it. Was my Lily worth it?” Mitchell regards him and he tilts his head to one side.

“Is that what all of this is about Flynn? Is this your idea of revenge for something that’s almost a century old? Please.” He pushes his face into Flynn’s. “That wasn’t Shannon you fucking idiot, you attacked her best friend Abby,” he hisses at him. He sees the shock flare briefly before the sound of his laughter fills the space in between them, unrepentant laughing that prickles the length of Mitchell’s spine.

“You’re bluffing, there’s no mistaking your firecracker of a red-haired girlfriend Mitchell.”

“This time you did. Why?”

“Well for Lily obviously. I don’t have a poker on me at present, too unwieldy you understand. If I did, I’d make you suffer.” The amusement fades from his eyes and they become utterly flat.

Mitchell stares at him. “Didn’t you ever see it? Didn’t you _ever_ seen her for the whore she was? She used you and she dumped you for me and here you are seeking vengeance for something that was completely her own doing. Are you completely stupid?” He spins him and throws him up against one of the large metal dumpster. “Jesus Flynn, you should’ve grown a pair while you had the chance, she wasn’t worth it, she never was!” It gets the required reaction and Flynn charges at him. He crashes into Mitchell and slams him against the brickwork. He blinks as his head makes contact and for the briefest moments he sees stars. Flynn wraps a hand around Mitchell’s throat and applies pressure.

“You didn’t know her, not like I did,” he snarls into his face. Mitchell grins at him, despite his flow of oxygen slowly being cut off. He feels his eyes scorch pure black and he pushes a hand up and over the bottom of Flynn’s face and he forces his head back. It succeeds in making him relinquish his iron grip on Mitchell’s throat and Mitchell uses it to his advantage. He swings a right hook and it makes a connection. It spins Flynn around and he staggers drunkenly. Mitchell grabs the front of Flynn’s jacket and propels him back around and he smiles when he sees the blood leaking from his mouth.

“Mitchell!” both of them hear Shannon’s cry, both of them recognise the fear behind it. Flynn laughs again.

“Oops. It seems as though you weren’t bluffing after all. Maybe next time eh? Plus the best thing will be that you’ll never know when it will happen or who it’ll be…perhaps someone will pick her off after work, during a shift break, in the ladies’ locker at work even? Imagine that.”

Mitchell slowly shakes his head at his taunts. “I really don’t think so,” he hisses at him, his eyes still inky black. There’s something in his hand, something he picked up after he’d punched Flynn.

Flynn gasps as the broken piece of wood hits its target. He stiffens in shock. Mitchell stares at him, their faces barely inches apart, his eyes still black.

“You should have walked away when I told you to,” he whispers to him and Flynn gives a guttural grunt as Mitchell pushes the wood just that little bit further in. He watches how he begins to fade and crumble. He lets go of him as he disintegrates and floats heavenwards.

He’s breathing heavily; it’s the only sound he can hear for the moment. He turns his head and he listens. His spine prickles with awareness. He can feet sweat trickle down his back. He won’t be surprised if Flynn has brought along a friend. Then he hears it, a clattering sound followed by rapid, running footsteps. His head snaps around in its direction and he’s running once more. The alley turns sharply to the left and blends into the darkness again. He stops and listens once more. He can’t hear anything. His eyes take in his surroundings but there’s no one here. He moves and glances down as his foot makes contact with something. He stops and reaches down and picks it up. His eyes widen. It’s a stake. He straightens up and looks around again. Nothing moves or breathes. Except…he’s sure he can smell violets and it makes him frown.

“ _Mitchell!”_ He hears Shannon’s panic stricken voice and he shoves the stake inside his jacket and he hurries back to her, his eyes flashing brown again, the fangs disappearing.

* * *

 

She lifts her head when she hears footsteps. She sighs with relief when she sees him emerge from the shadows.

“Oh thank Christ you’re okay. Jesus, someone’s attacked Abby, I thought you’d never come back. Are you okay?” She sees how he briefly halts beside Abby and stares down at her with wide eyes. With her spare hand she reaches up and she catches his hand and he glances sharply down at it. It’s smeared in blood, Abby’s blood. She sees the strangest expression cross his face.

“Oh I _know_ you don’t like the sight of blood Mitchell but you need to put that to one side. We have to try and help her, an ambulance is on its way and it should be here shortly.” In the distance she can hear the shrill wail of the ambulance siren and she looks back at Abby for a moment. Her eyes are drifting shut and her skin is icy white and she pretends that she doesn’t see the bluish tinge to her lips. She looks up at Mitchell and she yanks him down onto his knees beside her.

“You need to try and stop the bleeding Mitchell…like this. I need to check on Veronica.” Before he can open his mouth, she forces his hand over the deep wound. He swallows and feels panic begin to rise. Her blood is hot; he feels it pump out of her with each feeble throb of her heartbeat. It flows over his skin, over his fingers. Rich and so warm…he can almost taste it; the scent of it has him close to swooning. His mouth begins to water.

“Oh…God…” he mutters thickly and he squeezes his eyes shut. His hand trembles.

“Mitchell, you need to press harder, as hard as you can…” He feels her hand push his more firmly against Abby’s neck and he squeezes his eyes more tightly against the primal, animalistic emotions that are threatening to break free. He can feel Abby trembling as her pulse becomes weaker, her skin is cooling and he knows that the spectre of death is hovering perilously close.

He’s not strong enough, he feels the heat of the blood and he remembers its taste. He feels the longing rise inside of him with cruel savagery.

No. Not now. Please God not now. Blackness encroaches his senses and he can feel his fangs beginning to push through. He gasps against it. He can’t stop it, Christ help him he can’t stop it. His answering moan of defeat is long and low.

“Mitchell… _Mitchell_ the ambulance is here now…you can open your eyes now.” It’s now he can hear footsteps, urgent voices but he can’t open his eyes, not now.

“We can take over from here now sir,” a paramedic informs him with detached professionalism. He lets go, he feels the blood trickle over his hand, over his wrist and drip off the tips of his fingers. He can smell it, he wants to taste it. Need rises strongly inside of him.

“Oh God Mitchell…” He can hear Shannon’s voice again and at the same time he can hear the sound of his own heavy breathing, it echoes loudly inside of his head. He feels her grab his arm and automatically his eyes open.

They’re still black. He can feel his fangs erupt.

He looks at her, hears her gasp of fright and sees the terror in her eyes. It’s too much…it’s _too_ much. Panic overloads his already stretched emotions and he staggers to his feet.

He runs.

* * *

 

After a couple of hours it occurs to Harper that Mitchell isn’t going to appear. He’s consumed enough coffee to make sure that the caffeine will keep him awake for the entire night and his bladder isn’t too happy about it either.

He emerges from the toilets and heads for the exit. He needs to rethink and regroup. As he leaves, he looks up at the inky black sky and then turns his head when he hears the wail of an ambulance siren. He pities whomever it carries. He watches it appear with its blue lights strobing urgently. It screeches to a halt in a parking bay in front of the accident and emergency department, a second one in close pursuit. Something makes him wait. He watches the doors being thrown open and a stretcher is bundled out. Someone with red hair is on it and Harper’s eyes widen. Mitchell’s friend has red hair.  A horrible thought occurs to him as he slowly walks towards it, absorbing the organised mayhem that is unfolding. Someone else emerges. She’s deathly pale and worried, he can tell from the tight expression in her eyes and the deep frown that mars her brow. Harper sighs quietly with relief when he sees her, she’s okay, Mitchell’s friend is okay. He waits for Mitchell to emerge for surely where Shannon is Mitchell isn’t far behind. He remembers how he’d looked at her in the canteen. The ambulance doors slam shut and it’s pretty clear to him that Mitchell isn’t there.  Curiously he follows the small crowd that hurries into the accident and emergency department.

He hovers around the periphery and keeps out of the doctors’ way as they surround her trolley and try to save the girl’s life. There’s a thick white bandage pressed to the side of her neck and he can see blood soaking through it. It streaks obscenely down her neck and over her collarbone. One of the nurses peels it back to examine it and the breath catches in his throat. It is unmistakeably a vampire bite. His eyes widen for the briefest moment at the possibility of who could be responsible.  Harper knows that she’s beyond any kind of help. Her skin is greyish-white, her lips are blue. He sees the door materialise ignored by everyone else and Harper watches it. It’s a sturdy looking thing painted a light summer blue. A whitish glow seems to emanate from it. He turns his head and he flinches slightly when he sees the girl standing beside the bed. He sees the blood drying on her neck. He sees the confused expression on her face and how she stares around at the people who are huddled around the bed. Only Harper is watching her. His expression softens when he sees the tears in her eyes. She looks at him but she doesn’t speak and he watches as she catches sight of the door. She ventures towards it and then stops. She looks at it and points at it with a trembling hand.

“Is that for me?” Her voice is quiet, fearful and Harper nods mutely. He watches her open the door and walk through it. Instantly the light is gone and his focus returns to the body on the bed. He turns his head slightly and he sees Shannon standing opposite him, on the opposite side of the bed. She’s staring at the occupant of the bed. She looks pale with tear filled eyes and sooty mascara trails marking her cheeks. For a brief moment their eyes meet and hold. A nurse comes to her side and slips a comforting arm across her shoulders. She leads her away from the drama unfolding in front of her.  Harper blinks and then he turns away.

“Christ Mitchell, what have you done?”

* * *

 

The doctor sits beside Shannon and she knows what he’s about to say before he opens his mouth. Her eyes fill with tears and her mouth opens to refute him. A hand comes to rest on her shoulder for a moment.

“I’m sorry Shannon…her injuries were catastrophic, she lost a lot of blood…even before the ambulance got there…she was…” Shannon nods briskly and she stares at her feet.

“I know…I know…” Her voice is husky and she swallows hard against fresh tears that are welling up.  The hand on her shoulder tightens briefly.

“You tried, you really tried…don’t ever forget that.” Shannon turns her head and she looks at him, wiping away the tears from under her eyes as she does.

“What about Veronica?” The doctor slowly shakes his head and Shannon swallows against the nausea that churns dangerously in her stomach. He sighs shakily.

“Has someone been in touch with Abby’s mum…there’s just her mum…” She trembles. The doctor regards her and nods.

“Yeah, they’re doing it now. Is there someone I can call for you?” Shannon shakes her head. For a moment they just sit together before Shannon takes a breath and she straightens her spine.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to babysit me, I’ll be fine,” she tells him but she can tell by the look he gives her that he doesn’t believe her but he gets to his feet anyway. She watches him walk away and she bends her head to stare at the floor and she feels the grief rise sharply inside of her.

“Here,” another male voice interrupts. She tilts her head slightly and sees the plastic cup of tea appear in her line of vision. She begins to shake her head.

“No…”

“Yes…you look like you could use it…and this.” A cotton handkerchief materialises beside it. She takes both and she looks up at him. She looks into wide bright blue eyes.

“Thank you,” she answers in a quiet voice and glances at him once more as he lowers himself onto the vacant seat beside her.

For a little while they don’t speak though he keeps a careful eye on her as she sips at her tea.

“I’m really sorry about your friend,” He begins in a low voice and she looks at him. He has reddish brown untidy hair, pale skin and he looks slightly dishevelled. He glances at her and his smile is sympathetic.

“Thanks,” she whispers.

“Do you know what happened?” he ventures hesitantly. She slowly shakes her head.

“She was attacked by someone…with a knife or something…he ran off and my…boyfriend chased after him…but he must’ve got away or…something…”

“Is your boyfriend okay?” He watches as she lifts her head more fully to look at him and once more she shrugs.

“I don’t know…I think so…he took… off. Something…happened…and he ran…” Her brow furrows again and her words stutter and tumble over themselves. Another tear leaks out. “I don’t know where he is.”

He barely hears her whisper.

* * *

 

The cab pulls up outside of her flat and she pays the driver and gets out. She stands on the kerb and watches it pull away. Everything feels wretched and so… _wrong._ She struggles to make any kind of sense out of it. Abby had been talking to Veronica before she’d screamed. Then Mitchell had given chase and disappeared and when he’d returned he’d been so stiff and rigid.

His eyes, even now her brain struggles to understand what it is she’s seen. His eyes turned as black as the girl’s from the locker room. She remembers the fear flooding through her when she’d seen that. He ran and she hasn’t seen him since. She rubs at her eyes and she walks tiredly along the garden path towards the front door of her building. She opens her bag and extracts her keys. She lifts them to insert into the lock.

“Shannon…” Mitchell’s voice is low and tired but she starts in fright and her keys fall from suddenly nerveless fingers. Her eyes go wide when she sees him emerge from the shadows beside the door. Her heart begins to hammer in her breast and slowly she backs away from him. He bends down and picks up her keys.

“What are you doing here?” she demands, her voice weak and quivery. He pauses and frowns at her.

“I wanted the chance to explain…”

“Explain what… that you’re like that _freak_ in the locker room…an addict of some kind?…no…I don’t think I want to hear it!” she replies with a shake of her head.

“I’m not an addict…at least…not like you…think,” he confesses and she frowns.

“Like I _think_? What kinds of addicts are there exactly Mitchell? Your eyes _changed_ , they went pure black like that girl’s did…I didn’t imagine it.” He takes another step towards her and she takes one back, her hand coming up.  “Don’t come any closer,” she warns him and he halts.

“Can’t we go inside and talk? I need to…explain…”

“Explain or lie to me?” she retorts sharply and his mouth snaps shut and he looks away.

“Please…Shannon…I’m sorry I took off but the look on your face…I…I couldn’t…” His words falter.

“I couldn’t help it…it just got too much…yeah I’m an addict, you got that part right but I don’t do drugs…” Anguish fills his expression and his eyes beseech her as he watches her face slowly change and become shuttered.

“Please… _please_ listen to me,” he whispers.

“If you don’t drugs then what do you do?” she hisses, tears shining in her eyes. Mitchell swallows and he shifts and then takes a deep breath. He looks back at her and all of a sudden he feels a lump in his throat, one that threatens to choke him.

“I’m a…Jesus …Shannon,” he sighs and looks up at the night sky. She watches him scrub at his face with one hand and she sees the naked pain in his eyes. He looks back at her.

He spits it out. “I’m…my addiction is to blood Shannon, I’m a vampire.”

* * *

 

Her eyes go wide and her jaw drops open in shock.

“What? You’re a _what_?” she breathes in disbelief. He waits, his shoulders hunching over as he folds his arms tightly.

“You heard…”

“Do you have any _idea_ of how insane that sounds? There’s no such thing as vampires...Jesus…you need _serious_ psychological help Mitchell if that’s the best you can do!” she hisses at him.

“I’m telling the _truth_!” he argues and he advances towards her but she takes another couple of stumbling steps backwards and once again he stops. He wants her to understand, in his wildest dreams he wants her to accept but looking into her eyes he can see her decision and it burns inside of him. He goes to hand her back her keys but she doesn’t move and instead he tosses them at her feet.

 He sighs shakily.

“We _exist_ Shannon…that girl who attacked you in the locker room? She was a vampire and you were about to become her meal. The reaction I had in the accident and emergency department when you thought I didn’t like the sight of blood? Oh darlin’ if only you knew…it consumes my every waking moment, my every single thought. I used to count down the hours and minutes until it was time to feed. I was utterly addicted for over eighty years it was who I _was_.” He lifts his hands to briefly cover his face and she sees the rusty brown stains that mark the skin. Abby’s blood. Her stomach turns over.

“I turned my back on it all, I went to Vienna and I got clean…I came back here and I’ve really tried to live my life…I’ve really… truly… tried.”

“Mitchell…” His hands drop. She’s pale and he doesn’t blame her. He just shakes his head.

“I don’t want to be what I am any more Shannon and I really thought with you…” His flow of words stop. He swallows and lifts his head to look at her. He looks torn apart. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. Her eyes are still wide as he brushes past her and walks away.

* * *

 

Pure fear makes Jessie run as though the devils of hell are on her tail. That was the John Mitchell of legend, the most revered but feared vampire in Bristol, the one she was warned about. She’s heard the stories; she doesn’t think that there is a vampire in the south west who hasn’t heard the tales of old. She remembers him from before her recruitment of course but she only saw the charm behind the mask, she didn’t see his black eyed murderous rage. She can’t forget how he so callously despatched Flynn. The moment he’d ended him she’d known that she couldn’t do it, that she didn’t have the strength to do it. Harper had been right. He would’ve looked into her eyes, pushed that stake through her heart and laughed in her face.  He’s always been right but she has been too proud, too stubborn and too stupid to listen to him.

Her instinct is to hide. She knows what the vampire jungle drums are like. It won’t be long until word of Flynn’s demise gets out and with it her part in it. She’d failed him, she’d promised to have his back at that crucial moment but instead she had frozen, remained rooted to the spot filled with bone chilling terror and just watched. They’ll know, they will know what she’s done.

Her mind is reeling. She doesn’t know what to do. Should she go to Harper, will he listen to her, will he understand? Does she go back to Eleanor and plead ignorance. No, Eleanor knows her well, she’ll just look into her eyes for a couple of minutes and she’ll know something is wrong. She was fond of Flynn; he was her final connection to Lily. She won’t understand at all.

She keeps to the shadows. She keeps her head down, she doesn’t make eye contact with anyone, she keeps her arms folded around her body and her stride urgent as she tries to keep up with her racing thoughts. Where can she go? She turns her head when she hears loud raucous laughter and she cringes deeper into the shadows. She doesn’t want to be seen, she doesn’t want to be remembered.

Oh God what does she do now?

* * *

 

Eleanor does not like being alone. It brings back too many bad memories of times gone by. She listens to the silence of the house. Oliver is nowhere to be seen and she hasn’t seen Jessica or Flynn all day. She checks the thin platinum watch that circles one thin wrist and frowns slightly. Jessica is late home. There have been times when she’s sneaked home in the early hours but even by her standards, she’s late. She swallows and she wonders. She gets to her feet and walks to the tall windows and she looks out at the street but apart from the occasional late night cab it is deserted. She turns and walks back to the sofa. She doesn’t sit down and instead she thinks. She turns her head to the painting above the fireplace. Is history repeating itself?  She wonders whether Jessica is with Flynn. She feels panic mixed in with anger begin to burn in the pit of her stomach at the thought of it. She clenches her fists. She won’t accept it, it is utterly intolerable.

She hears the front door open and she spins around. Relief wars with irritation. What time does she call this, she needs to be made aware that there are rules in this house and if she wants to continue to live here then she will have to abide them.  She waits and after a moment the door to the living room opens. There’s no sly peek as she’s expecting from Jessica. No, the door opens quickly and confidently and Eleanor’s eyes widen with shock as she sees who her visitor is.

Edgar Wyndam does not look at all happy to be here. His gaze is steely, unrelenting, _unnerving_ in its intensity as he enters the room. Her mouth drops open and coherent thought struggles to form.

“What…”

“Am I doing here?” he finishes. He frowns very slightly. There’s something in his hand. He flings it towards her and it lands in a heap at her feet. She looks stupidly down at it and then back at him.

“It seems Madam that we have a situation developing.”


	17. Chapter Seventeen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harper is a vampire on a mission....

**Chapter Seventeen:**

Harper has forgotten how many pubs and clubs there are in Bristol and then there are the other places, the ones _not_ on the usual radar. He’s sure the usual underground watering holes still exist and a few new ones too. He’s tired and badly needs to sleep but he has to find him. Shannon said that her boyfriend had run off. He can only guess at why and judging by the punch-drunk expression on her face earlier, she’s struggling to make sense of everything. He doesn’t blame the poor girl; there are times when even he struggles.

He can imagine that Mitchell is feeling vulnerable, is dangerously close to losing complete and permanent control and all of this will have been for naught.  He hopes that he has holed up in a bar somewhere and hasn’t embarked further on any kind of rampage. If he’s in any kind of state, the effect could be cataclysmic.

* * *

 

He pauses when he sees the surprisingly discreet blue-white neon sign that announces the existence of another ‘private’ establishment. To the normal, regular Joe on the street it’s just another dive, somewhere to avoid even in absolute desperation. He stares at it in desolation. It’s been a while since he set foot in a place like this. He takes a deep breath and sighs it out He shakes his shoulders out to release the tension in his shoulder blades and then as an afterthought loosens two or three buttons of his shirt and his musses up already rumpled reddish brown hair.

He hopes to God that he’s here.

The gorilla masquerading as security on the door gives Harper a suspicious look but doesn’t question him as he makes his way down the single flight of narrow steps into the gloomy darkness. Harper squints. The tables and the bar are relatively quiet. He slowly approaches the bar and he looks along its length. He watches as a bartender approaches him.

“John Mitchell, is he here?” he asks in a low voice. He sees him stiffen very slightly and with a roll of his eyes he indicates the other end of the bar. Harper glances over and he sees him. There is a shot glass in front of him and the bar staff are giving him a wide berth. Harper realises that he’s staring at someone with an unblinking intensity he has never forgotten.

Mitchell is on the hunt.

Harper swallows against a dry throat. He glances at the bar tender and takes a bill out of his jacket pocket and he tosses it across the bar at him. “We do not want to be disturbed under any circumstances whatever happens, do you understand?” The bartender pockets the money, nods and melts away.

As he gets closer to him he sees who Mitchell is staring at.

She looks to be no older than sixteen years old with long thick dark hair, smudged make up and grubby clothes. She’s sitting alone in a booth with a glass of water in front of her. She’s staring at it and not looking around. Harper realises that she’s deliberately not making eye contact with anyone. She has a desperate, needy aura about her. She’s pale and skinny and looks like she could do with a good meal and not be somebody else’s. He takes a thin wedge of cash out of his pocket and he quietly approaches her. Her head lifts and she regards him with startled eyes. He watches the surprise drain away to be replaced by something else, something old and jaded. It falls down behind her eyes like a shutter.

“What do you want?” she all but snarls at him. Harper leans over and watches how her eyes widen. He miscalculated her age, she’s fifteen years old if she’s a minute. He holds the cash between two long fingers.

“There should be enough money here for a room at a cheap hotel and a decent meal, I advise that you take it and get out of here.” He keeps his voice low but he can almost feel the length of his spine prickle, his shoulder blades fairly itch.

“What’s the catch?” she demands. Harper shakes his head surreptitiously.

“There isn’t one,” he replies and her answering eye roll tells him that she’s heard that one several times before.

“What if I don’t want to take your money?”

Harper leans a little bit closer to her and he makes sure that he makes and he keeps eye contact. “Then I cannot guarantee your safety. You need to accept my kind offer and leave…now.” He pushes the cash across the table and he turns his head and looks at Mitchell over his shoulder. He’s transferred his attention to the shot glass in front of him. Harper turns his head back as the girl gathers up her meagre belongings and shuffles out. He looks back over his shoulder as Mitchell throws some money onto the bar and gets to his feet. Harper walks toward him, almost a blur, and he clamps a hand around his upper arm.

“No,” he tells him in a short, hard voice.

Mitchell glares at him, taken by surprise, or at least he tries, the bleary eyes kind of ruin the effect a little bit. “No? Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?”

Harper regards him calmly.

“Jude Harper, John Mitchell, that’s who I am and you have been a very, _very_ naughty vampire.” He lifts his other hand and wags a finger in his face. He sees him frown darkly.

“Get the fuck out of my way…” He goes to push his hand out of the way but Harper clamps it onto his shoulder and grips it tightly.

“Or what…what will you do?” he challenges quietly and Mitchell goes very still.

“Do you know who I am?” he enquires in a calm voice that does not fool Harper for an instant.

“Is that supposed to intimidate me?” A heavy silence drops between them as Mitchell tries to stare him out. Harper’s smile is one of bemusement. “Oh I know who you are Mitchell, there isn’t a vampire in Bristol who hasn’t heard of you. Are you going to sit down?”

“Are you going to make me?” Mitchell’s chin goes up and his tone turns belligerent. Harper sighs.

“Do you know what, I really don’t want to, I’m more of a friend than a fighter but it doesn’t mean that I won’t deliver if the occasion calls for it. You may be all big and bad and all of that when you’re at your very worst but I haven’t been drinking solidly for oh…the last two hours…” He gazes at him and he waits. He applies subtle pressure onto his shoulder and watches him sit back down on his stool.  He slides onto the vacant one beside him and looks at the barman. He points at Mitchell’s empty glass and holds up two fingers. He waits as the barman approaches and the look he gives Mitchell is distinctly nervous as he places two clean shot glasses in front of them both and pours equal measures into both. Harper pushes a bill across and waits until he moves out of hearing distance.

“You’re a hard man to find my friend,” he comments and Mitchell glances at him as he reaches for the glass and throws back the whisky back in one practiced move.

“I’m not exactly the sociable type and I’m not your friend,” he replies and grimaces as the whisky burns a trail down to his stomach. He nods at the bartender who pours another shot into his glass. As he turns, Mitchell reaches across the bar and grabs his wrist. He relieves him of the bottle. “I’ll hold onto that.” It isn’t a request and the bartender sends Harper a nervous look. He just nods.

“You do realise that you’re going to wake up with a hell of a head on your shoulders in the morning...”

“Yeah well you’re not my mother so back the fuck off okay?” He slings back another shot. Harper holds up both hands in silent submission but as he lowers his hands he regards him curiously.

“How many of those have you had?” Mitchell’s aim is slightly off as he pours himself another shot.

“Not nearly enough…”he mutters, picking up the small squat glass. He doesn’t throw this one back as he expects him to, instead he stares at it…no, more accurately he _glares_ at it. Harper reaches for his own glass and he sips at his. He has no intention of getting blasphemously drunk tonight. He can’t afford to, the last time he got utterly blotto was celebrating the Restoration and he’d had a hangover that had lasted for _days._

“I heard there was trouble tonight…a young red haired girl was…according to her friend attacked by a lunatic with a knife?” Harper waits. Slowly Mitchell replaces the glass onto the bar and he looks at him. The frown is back.

“Who are you again?” His voice is slightly louder now and Harper leans a little bit closer to him and he allows his eyes to scorch black for a brief moment.

“Someone who sat with your girlfriend while she shook with fear and grief,” he answers quietly. Mitchell seems to deflate in front of his eyes.

“She’s not my girlfriend, not anymore. How’s Abby?”

Harper frowns at him, why would he be asking about a girl he…

_Wait a minute…_

“Was that her name?” Mitchell looks sharply back at him and his frown becomes dark. Harper watches him and he begins to understand how he could’ve got that reputation that is still whispered about even now. His frowns are intimidating.

“Was? _Shit!_ ” he hisses and shakes his head. He looks away and rests an elbow on the bar. He pulls his fingers through untidy curls.

“You mean that wasn’t….”

Mitchell’s head turns sharply in his direction once more and his expression is almost affronted. He sits up straight again. “ _Me_? Fuck no…I haven’t…not since Christmas…not a drop…Did you think…”

Harper hears his outrage and he doesn’t blame him. Instead he shrugs.

“Two women are dead Mitchell, both with connections to your girl and she looked like she’d been punched…in hindsight…” His voice fades at the feeling of relief he’s experiencing. Mitchell watches him for a moment and then looks back at his glass. He shakes his head again.

“I should’ve realised, it was bad and there was a lot of blood. He was after Shannon and got the wrong girl,” he mutters and Harper frowns.

“Who?” He waits. He knows who but he wants Mitchell to confirm it for him.

Mitchell glances at him once more.

“His name was Donovan Flynn…I knew him a long time ago and it seems he had a score to settle with me…thought by going after Shannon he’d get to me but he got the wrong girl. _Fuck!_ ” he hisses. He tosses back the shot and reaches for the bottle again.

“Shannon tried to save her…she tried to stop the bleeding…tried to get me to help but all that blood…the heat of it…it was just too much and I couldn’t help it…”

“She saw you…the eyes…the fangs?” Mitchell slowly nods.

“Ah…and she didn’t react well…” Mitchell lifts the glass to his lips and this time he takes a contemplative sip.

“No she didn’t, not then and not later when I went to see her and tried to explain…why the _fuck_ am I telling you this?” he exclaims and he glares at him.

Harper just regards him, his expression deadpan. “I have no idea, because I’m here? What happened to Flynn?”

“What do you think, I ended the fucking lunatic.”

Harper slowly nods. One less vampire to think about. He takes a quick breath.

“Okay. So now you’re here, drowning your sorrows and eyeing the clientele hoping for a quick snack after how many months of sobriety…because your lady rejected you? Are you really that weak?” he waits. He lets out a quiet sigh at Mitchell’s expression, he does not look happy at all. “I’ve been keeping track of you for a few weeks Mitchell…ever since you ignored Carl’s advice and decided that you could function as you are by yourself. We can see how well that has turned out now, can’t we?” His tone becomes mildly chastising.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Mitchell retaliates and Harper slowly, nonchalantly, shrugs.

“Oh I don’t know…you’ve been back in Bristol how long and you’ve attracted the attention of how many vampires exactly?” He watches Mitchell’s expression change, become less belligerent. “Precisely. Carl told you back in Vienna that you needed to stay with him until the summer at the very least but did you listen?” He slowly shakes his head. “Since when have you ever listened to anyone other than yourself John? I was in the neighbourhood when Carl called me in a bit of a flap and he’s asked me to keep an eye on you. He’s concerned, he doesn’t think you’re anywhere near ready to be by yourself and seeing you tonight, I’m inclined to agree.”

“And who has made you judge and jury all of a sudden?” Mitchell demands crossly.

“Pay attention Mitchell, my name is Jude Harper; I believe we already covered that part. Perhaps you should ask your friend Edgar Wyndam who I am.”

“You’re an Old One?”

“Clever boy, that I am. While I’m nowhere near Wyndam’s age, I’m possibly one of the oldest vampires you’ll ever come across and I’m here to help you stay on the straight and narrow.”

“Why?”

“Why not Mitchell?  Look, I’d love to sit here and tell you all about myself but this place is giving me a really bad case of the heebie jeebies and I’d dearly love to leave. So how about it, how about you and I get out of here? I have a very nice house on the outskirts of Bristol, we could head there, we could talk or not there’s no pressure but I need to get out of here before I break out in hives. Can vampires catch fleas?” His blue eyes quickly scan his surroundings and he frowns.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Mitchell informs him and as if to prove the point, he pours himself another drink.

Harper briefly closes his eyes and shakes his head slightly. “Okay…maybe not now but I’m not going anywhere for the time being. I’m patient, I haven’t got to this age without being so but if you don’t mind, I think I’ll swap over to something less…disastrous because unlike you I’d like to feel half way normal in the morning," Harper answers in a cheery tone that has Mitchell looking at him suspiciously. He smiles sweetly at him which causes the younger vampire to roll his eyes and look back at his glass.

“Whatever,” he mutters morosely.

Harper leans closer towards him. “Just for your information incidentally, when I say that I’m keeping an eye on you, I mean exactly that. If I have to sleep on your sofa tonight then I will.” He keeps his voice low and Mitchell looks at him.

“No you won’t.”

Harper widens his eyes. “Oh won’t I? You just watch me. I can be persistent, I can be very, very annoying and I really don’t care. I’m not one of your usual run of the mill lurk in the shadows kind of vampire. I’m one of the out in the open, enjoying life such as it is kind. It’s exhilarating.” He flashes him a grin and Mitchell can’t help it, he can’t tear his eyes away from him.

“You and I have something in common.” Once more he lowers his voice. Mitchell rolls his eyes and reaches for his glass again.

“ Somehow I very much doubt that,” he mutters under his breath.

“You’d be surprised…half a millennium ago I had a similar reputation to yours but I don’t think I had a cool moniker to go with it. Do you think Big Bad Jude has the same effect?”

Mitchell glances back at him but doesn’t respond; he doesn’t think he needs to.

“Have you heard of the Forsaken Mitchell?” Harper asks him. He watches and waits.

“I’ve heard of them…a long time ago… but I thought it was just a story about a bunch of religious vampire nutters….”

Harper laughs. “Oh is that what we’re known as? Nice.” Mitchell regards him curiously, he doesn’t sound offended at all. “We do exist Mitchell; we have done since the age of the first vampire. We choose not to feed but we’re not religious or nutters, oh that _does_ stink of Wyndam…that’s the kind of thing he’d say to put the word out against us.” He grins once more but it fades after a moment.

“I haven’t touched blood in five hundred years.”

“And what do you want from me, a round of applause?” Mitchell mutters but he continues to listen.

Harper chuckles and reaches for his glass. He shakes his head slowly as he takes a sip.

“Nice comeback. No…I’m telling you because I want you to know that it can be done.” He lowers the glass and looks at Mitchell once more. “You’ve been second-guessing for the last forty years, questioning why. I heard you tried giving it up in London in the late sixties without any real success and you’ve dipped in and out since. You haven’t had the support or the strength Mitchell and that’s why you fail.”

“So you’re volunteering to what… become my…sponsor?” Harper hears hears the blatant disbelief in his voice. Mitchell shakes his head. “I’m not interested so you can go play your head games with someone else thanks.”

“Oh Mitchell. If you were strong enough you wouldn’t be sitting here, getting rat arsed on cheap whisky and contemplating sliding off the wagon and back into notoriety because a woman, a _human_ let’s not forget, saw you all black eyed and fangy and panicked. You’re more than that.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Mitchell seems to pause. “She rejected me. She doesn’t want to listen or understand…Herrick was right, the moment she saw me, the _true_ me, then she ran screaming for mercy. I shouldn’t have gone near her in the first place.”

“And yet you did and why was that?”

 The vehemence in Mitchell’s expression melts away and once more he looks back at his glass. He shrugs instead.

“She saw something worthwhile in you, she was attracted to you…and she’s had the most horrific of shocks but who’s to say she won’t come around to the idea of a relationship with you once things begin to settle down inside of her?”

“Have a relationship with a vampire?” Mitchell scoffs. Harper shrugs.

“Why not?  It’s not unheard of; you tried in London didn’t you…Josie wasn’t it?”

Mitchell glares at him. “And look how well that turned out. No, it’s over, I’m out of it, I’m over it.” He shakes his head.

“No you’re not. Instead you’re sitting in here talking about it, if you were truly over her, you’d be moving on, you wouldn’t be sitting here all depressed, filled with self-hatred and disillusionment,” Harper tells him. Mitchell glares at him once more.

Instead of looking intimidating, Harper glances at his watch. He reaches for the whisky bottle and leans across the bar and hands it back to the bartender with some money.

“That should cover it,” he announces and then he looks at Mitchell.

“Come on, we’re leaving.” He reaches for his arm as he stands up but Mitchell shrugs him off and he shakes his head.

“No.”

“For God’s sake Mitchell…”

“I said _no,_ _”_ he snarls at him but Harper isn’t deterred. He grabs Mitchell’s arm and pulls him off the stool. The flash of black eyes and fangs isn’t unexpected but it still surprises Harper all the same. He reacts quickly and slams Mitchell down onto the bar and pulls his arms behind his back.

He leans down. “You’re drunk Mitchell so I’ll let this go for that reason, it’s been a tough night all around. I’ve tried being nice but it obviously isn’t working so we’re going to try it the old fashioned way. No one here is going to stop me so we’re going to leave, is that understood?” Mitchell struggles beneath his grip. “You think because I don’t feed then I’m weak? Think again my friend,” he whispers and he grabs the back of Mitchell’s jacket and pulls him back upright. As he does so, Harper’s eyes take in his surroundings. They’re the centre of attention and he makes himself smile.

“Nothing to see here people, carry on,” he announces jovially and frogmarches Mitchell out of the bar.

* * *

 

Once outside the cool night air is like a slap in the face. Harper keeps a firm grip on him, supporting him as Mitchell’s legs momentarily sag.

“Not fun is it…now are you going to behave?” he asks and after a moment Mitchell nods. Cautiously Harper lets go of him and he half expects him to make an attempt to escape but he doesn’t but he’s rocking on his heels.

“My car isn’t far away. We’re going to go to your flat and we’re going to pick up some belongings and we’ll go to my house.”

Mitchell turns to look at him. Harper shakes his head.

“You’re teetering on a precipice Mitchell, you know you are. Someone will look at you the wrong way or say the wrong thing and it will quickly become calamitous. You know I’m right and I want to help you. _Let_ me help you.” He sees how pale he is and he recognises the expression of defeat. “You ended Donovan Flynn tonight, it’s been a while since he was last in Bristol, seventy five years ago I believe, since the ending of Lily Vale.” Harper keeps his voice low. “Why do you think he waited this long to try and get his revenge Mitchell? He’s not the bravest of vampires; he doesn’t have your reputation. If it had been anyone else he would’ve walked away and chalked it down to vampire politics but he didn’t, he came back and he was looking for you. He became uncharacteristically brave don’t you think?” Harper tilts his head to one side.

“You think he had back up?” Mitchell’s hand comes to cradle his head for a moment.

“Yeah and if you weren’t as pissed as a fart then you’d see it and know. Who has the most to gain from your ending Mitchell, think back if you can…” He waits. Mitchell slowly shakes his head.

“I can’t…my head is fucking killing me…” he moans.

“Yes you can,” Harper grips his shoulders and gives him a gentle shake, “Think.”

“If I made a list of all the people with an axe to grind then we’d be here all night.”

“That’s quite possibly true but this is specific, Donovan Flynn and….”

“Lily.” He sees how his vision clears. He sighs raggedly. “You think it’s all down to Eleanor Brennan.” He looks at Harper who slowly nods.

“I know it is,” he confirms and Mitchell scowls.

“I saw her before I went to Vienna, I even…apologised…for what I’d done back then…so why would she be behind this?”

“You killed her darling girl; she’ll never forgive you for that. Now do you see why I had to find you? She’s an Old One and she’s old school. You are not safe until one of you is dust.”

“For fuck's sake Harper…it’s been close to a century.”

“To her it’s like yesterday and you know what it’s like to want revenge with everything that you possess, it consumes you. If you’re with me, under my protection then she won’t dare touch you.”

“But she could go for Shannon instead, if she knows about her.”

“She knows about her, she’ll know every single thing about her.”

Mitchell stares at him. “Oh fuck,” he groans.

“We need to go now, get some coffee into you and think. Can you walk?”

“I’m not a complete and utter eejit Harper, course I can.” Mitchell defends. Harper just sighs.

“Okay, just checking. Your flat first are we agreed on that?” He waits and after a moment Mitchell slowly and reluctantly nods. Harper throws his hands up and casts a look heavenwards.

“ _Finally!”_ he sighs.

* * *

 

Harper enters the small flat almost gingerly. He keeps his arms folded as he follows Mitchell inside. He watches as he flicks on a light and his eyes take in the dingy surroundings. He doesn’t say a word but watches Mitchell go through a white door on his right. As he walks by he sees a small, very untidy bedroom. He waits, leaning up against the wall, his arms still folded. It doesn’t take Mitchell long to pack a small bag and re-emerge.

“How long are we talking?” he asks, his tone subdued.

Harper shrugs. “A while. This place is a dump.”

“Yeah well, you try finding something half decent on a porter’s wage and you’ll soon find out that it doesn’t happen,” Mitchell mutters darkly, his eyes skipping around the depressing vista. He brushes past Harper and goes through another door. This time he does follow him and he stops when he realises that he’s in a living area of some sorts. He turns his head and sees Mitchell unplug a small silver portable television. He looks at Harper and hands the holdall to him and he picks up the television.

“I’ll be glad to see the back of this place,” he mutters as he leaves. Harper casts a final look around as he follows once more.

“So will I,” he agrees.

* * *

 

The sun is beginning to rise as the car pulls into the driveway. Mitchell is very quiet and hasn’t said another word since Harper loaded him and his luggage inside. He hasn’t offered any further conversation. It’s been a very long night and he has a feeling it isn’t over yet.

Mitchell follows Harper inside and he looks up at the pale light that flows through the glass dome above him. He frowns at it and then looks back at Harper who carries his bag.

“This way,” Harper instructs in a low voice and Mitchell follows. The numbing effect of the alcohol is beginning to wear off. His head hurts but so does his heart. He’s beginning to remember his conversation with Shannon and more than ever he wants to go and see her and talk to her once more. He can’t bear the thought of her hating him.

They walk into a large kitchen and Mitchell puts his television onto a large pine table. Harper looks at him. “How about I make us some coffee?” he suggests breezily.

“How about something a bit stronger?” Mitchell parries and Harper rolls his eyes. He should be happy that he’s got Mitchell under his roof. He sighs.

“There is beer in the fridge, help yourself but leave some for someone else.” He turns and strides out, leaving Mitchell’s bag beside the television set.

Mitchell walks out of the kitchen with a bottle in his hand. Harper is in what looks like a large conservatory which is filled with canvasses and easels, some which are covered with large white drop cloths. He’s staring at an easel with a deep frown on his face and he looks up when he sees Mitchell standing in the doorway.

“You’re an artist?” Harper shrugs and then nods. Mitchell takes a mouthful of beer.

“How old are you?” he asks and Harper glances at him again.

“Older than you and younger than Wyndam.”

“Well I don’t know how old Wyndam is, no one does.” He enters the conservatory. There are a couple of wrought iron tables dotted around with paints, jars of brushes and oils crammed onto them.

“Rumour has it he’s close to a thousand years old, I was recruited mid fourteenth century, so I’m six hundred and fifty two years old to be precise.” He watches Mitchell’s eyes widen in shock. “I’ll tell you the whole sorry tale tomorrow. You need to sober up and get some sleep, I need to work on this canvas a bit more while I still can.” He returns his attention to it and sighs quietly. Mitchell isn’t that drunk that he doesn’t understand a dismissal when he hears it. He turns and leaves Harper alone.

He walks into a large living room. It has high ceilings and comfortable looking leather sofas and armchairs. There are paintings hung on the silk covered walls. Everything looks expensive and well cared for. He lowers himself onto a sofa and closes his eyes. He can feel a mild pounding behind his eyes. Knocking back the whisky for two hours straight will surely fuck him up good and proper tomorrow.

His eyes pop open when he hears the front door slam.

“Jude?” The voice is strident and curiously Mitchell gets to his feet. He’s still carrying his bottle of beer.

“I know it’s late… but I had nowhere to go. Jude where are you? I need to talk to you…Flynn went after Mitchell…he failed, it was horrible, I didn’t help him like I promised…and he’ll find out and he’ll kill me for sure.” Mitchell tenses, his entire body tingling with awareness. It’s a woman’s voice, she sounds upset but who is she?

He turns when he hears the living room door open. He watches her come to a halt and her eyes are wide with shock. He feels an answering jolt in the pit of his stomach.

_What the…._

Recognition follows an instant later.

“What are you doing here?” she demands.

 

 


	18. Chapter Eighteen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jessie and Mitchell meet face to face. And two Old Ones have a conversation...

**Chapter Eighteen:**

“Do I know you sweetheart?” Mitchell frowns deeply as he seems to try to place her. He watches how her big blue eyes widen with outrage. She storms towards him, her earlier hesitancy forgotten and it's now replaced by indignation. It is indignation that is aimed squarely at him.

“How can you say that….how can you stand there and …” Her voice rises a couple of octaves in outrage.  

Mitchell regards her with open insolence and he swigs at his beer. “Say what darlin’?” Her mouth drops open and he grins.

“You _bastard_!” she screeches and she flies at him. The bottle hits the floor as he catches her by her wrists and he holds on tightly. Her eyes flash black and Mitchell chuckles.

“Oh look at _you_ sweetheart, like a little angry kitten,” he chuckles. He pushes her away and he looks down at the floor. He sighs melodramatically.  “And you’ve made me spill my beer; I’m going to have to get another one now.” Unsteadily he leans down and picks up the bottle.

“You don’t remember me.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. He looks from the bottle to her face and he sees the tragedy etched there. Her black gaze has disappeared.

“Why would I need to remember you sweetheart?” he jabs and he sees how she frowns, how fat tears well in her eyes and threaten to spill over.

“Because of who I am, what I became…it’s all your _fault!_ ” Her voice rises to a scream and he sees the anger flare in her eyes afresh. She flies at him once more and the strength of her rage knocks him back a step. The bottle hits the floor once more and remains forgotten.

Mitchell grabs hold of her shoulders and holds her at arm’s length watching her as she writhes and hisses and tries to kick him.  He catches the drift of something in the air between them, a sweet old fashioned perfume. Watching her amuses him for a moment before the memory triggers and he tightens his grip and he spins around. He pushes her up against the wall and he glares at her.

“It was you wasn’t it…in the locker room…it was you.” Mitchell’s voice is low, almost a growl and Jessie’s eyes go wide.

“What….” she stutters as his hand winds around the front of her throat and he pins her up against the wall. Her hands wrap around his wrist and she tries to wrench it free but it’s no use. He’s angry and he’s strong.

“Attacking Shannon like that…you were interrupted remember?” He bends his head slightly and closes his eyes as he gently inhales. His gaze is intense with conviction once they open again. “Oh yeah it was you alright. I recognise that perfume now. It’s the twenty first century darling, you should really update it." 

“I didn’t know….who she was…” Her voice is clogged in her throat and her eyes widen in alarm. He shakes her very slightly before he slowly loosens his grip but he doesn’t let go of her.

“No you didn’t. I should thank you because that’s how I got to meet her, got to know her so there’s that but sweetheart, here’s a newsflash for you. I didn’t make you what you are. That is not my fault so you need to pull your fuckin’ head in.”

“What are you doing here?” she demands.

“Could ask you the same question darlin’.”

“I’m not your darling, don’t call me that…”

“Oh for fucks sake…” Mitchell snarls at her as he lets go of her, pushing her away from him. As quick as lightning she retaliates and strikes out and her punch catches Mitchell square on the jaw. It rocks him back on his heels and he tastes blood bloom in his mouth. His eyes fade to shiny black as he looks at her. Something inside of him lets go. He actually feels it detach from his soul.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?” he snarls.

“Fuck you! She was there, she was game, you know the rules!” she bellows at him and he frowns at her and then he shakes his head.

“The rules? Is that the best you can do?” he yells back at her. He reaches into his jacket and he pulls out the stake. Jessie’s eyes go wide when she recognises it. She remains frozen to the spot. “She was an innocent, there to change her clothes. She wasn’t expecting you; she didn’t deserve what you had in store for her. You had no right.” He wields it in his hand as if testing its weight.

“Since when do you care about _them_ , you’re a vampire Mitchell, supposedly one of the legends or have you forgotten?”

Mitchell shakes his head. “No, I haven’t forgotten.” he mutters and he takes a step towards her.

Harper starts when he hears the shrill scream that echoes from inside of his house. It sends a shiver of alarm through his system and makes him drop the paintbrush he’s been holding.

“What…oh… _Christ_ ….” he gasps. He tears inside of the house.

* * *

 

“Mitchell…Oh for Christ’s sake!” Harper yells as he runs into the living room. He races towards him, seeing the other vampire holding a wooden stake aloft. His eyes widen further when he sees who he has captive, who his black eyed rage is directed at. He pushes his way in between them.

“Mitchell…no…for the love of …please not her.” He manages to get in front of Jessie and he turns to face him. He sees the blood on Mitchell’s bottom lip. He reaches for the stake and he wrenches it out of his hand and he throws it down on the floor between them. He puts his hands on his shoulders.

“Calm down…you’re drunk, you’re hurt and you’re tired and that’s not a very good combination. Take a step back.” He lowers his voice. A movement out of the corner of his eye makes him turn his head and he sees Jessie straighten up. She has something in her hand and he quickly turns, knocking Mitchell off balance as he lunges for her arm as it rises up and he sees the intention in her eyes, the vehemence. He grabs her wrist and tightens his grip. They sway in a wicked parody of a waltz as he tries to regain control. She’s surprisingly strong and it takes him a moment to finally yank the stake free of her grasp.

“No… _absolutely_ …no. There will be _no_ killing in my house today…or any other day for that matter. Jesus what is the matter with you two _children_?” he hisses. He places a hand on Jessie’s breastbone and gives her a stern look. He looks at Mitchell over one shoulder. “I see you’ve been reacquainted,” he comments, breathing heavily and Mitchell glances at him as he pulls fingers through untidy hair. He touches the side of his face and opens and closes his mouth, flexing his jaw experimentally. He then wipes at his bottom lip and then goes to sit on the arm of one of the armchairs.

“Bitch nearly broke my jaw,” he mutters.

“Bite me!” she snarls and his head whips around in her direction.

“Don’t fucking tempt me darlin’,” he hisses back.

“Okay….that’s enough…please…just put a lid on it!” Harper interrupts impatiently. There’s a brief but sullen silence.

Jessie sighs. “He doesn’t remember me,” she informs him.

“Of course I do, I was just yanking your chain,” Mitchell snaps.

“Why?” Harper demands sharply and Mitchell shrugs.

“Because I can…because I fucking felt like it,” he retorts crossly. He glances at Jessie. He slowly stands up and shrugs off his jacket. He flexes his shoulders and drapes it across the chair. He rubs his jaw again.

“Who recruited you?”

Jessie watches him with wide eyes. “Why do you care?”

“Well to be honest I don’t. I just know it wasn’t me. So who was it?”

“Eleanor Brennan,” she confesses. She watches as he slowly begins to nod, his expression darkening. He turns his back on her.

“When?” he snaps out.

“The party you took me to. She took a shine to me. You left me there Mitchell, you dazzled me, you promised me the world or at least the chance to further my career and instead you let them have me and I became this… _thing!_ ” Her voice shakes with new anger. Mitchell spins around to regard her.

“It was nothing personal darlin’, it was just business. I’m sure you know the story now, a vampire party, someone had to provide the in house entertainment and I was that someone and I chose you. I saw you at the tea room, I liked what I saw.” He stands in front of her, ever mindful of Harper standing in between them watching and monitoring. He watches her expression crumple and more tears slide down her cheeks as she seems to bend over, her arms going around her waist. Harper gives Mitchell a look of alarm. He subtly shrugs and moves away as Harper turns to her and gently puts his arms around her. Mitchell watches them dispassionately, sees how she leans into him.

“You’ve been Eleanor’s companion for seventy five years Jessie, why all the hatred and why directed at me? I wasn’t the one who recruited you, that was Eleanor, if there’s anyone you should be mad and screaming at, then it’s her.”

Slowly Jessie straightens and she wipes at her eyes, leaving sooty black marks beneath both eyes. “I wish I’d never agreed to meet you John Mitchell,” she hisses at him and he shrugs.

“Hindsight is a wonderful thing isn’t it? I can’t change the past sweetheart. Are you expecting me to apologise, to get down on my knees and beg for your abject forgiveness? Did you really think I would care? I don’t. You’re a vampire, you’ve lived a very comfortable seventy five years being looked after and coddled by Eleanor. Get the fuck over it.” His expression is cruel and Harper watches Jessie’s eyes widen with shock.

“I should’ve staked you in that alley, like Flynn told me to.”

Just like that Mitchell is front of her again.

“Then why didn’t you? Too much of a coward or did you realise that you’d bitten off more than you could chew? _Another_ one who thought that because I’m off the blood that I’m weak with it and unable to defend myself. You’re all the fucking same, idiots the lot of you,” he sneers at her.

“It wasn’t the right time…”

“You were in that alley watching me and you ran like a scared child,” he hisses at her and he takes a slow step back. He slowly nods and his face twists with scorn. “Flynn thought he’d killed Shannon…a twisted revenge for something he couldn’t let go of and no doubt you’ve got your own version in your head too. Come on then darlin’, what are you waiting for?” He pulls open his shirt “The first try is for free.” He holds his arms out at either side of his body and his smile is cold.

Harper rolls his eyes. “Oh for crying out loud…hasn’t anyone had enough of this drama for one day? I know I have. Button up your shirt, there will be no talk of revenge, no staking and no blood will be shed. I need to get some sleep or I’m going to seriously start banging heads together.” He looks at Jessie and his expression softens when he sees how pale she is, how exhausted she looks.

“You need to sleep sweet pea,” he whispers and then he looks at Mitchell and his expression hardens again “And you need to fucking sober up. I’m going to make some coffee and you’re going to drink it if I have to pour it down your throat myself.” He lets go of Jessie and he looks back at Mitchell. “Kitchen. Now. I don’t trust either of you not to kill each other yet.” He heads off towards the kitchen.

Mitchell stands still and watches Jessie who is staring back at him. She’s trembling now and he sees how close to coming undone she is.  He feels the faintest stirring of sympathy for her.

“Mitchell…now please!” Harper shouts. He rolls his eyes, swears beneath his breath but he does as he is told.

* * *

 

Eleanor bends down and she picks up what Edgar Wyndam has thrown at her feet. A pair of trousers, a blood stained shirt and a jacket. She looks at him in askance.

“There was some trouble in the city earlier, a bit of a battle by all accounts. Do you know who the combatants were?” Wyndam watches her and sees her shake her head. “Oh come now, really? You really have no idea at all?” His voice rises sharply. It causes an icy pool of fear to gather in the pit of her stomach as she clutches the items of clothing between her hands.

“Let me refresh your memory then shall I? It came to my attention that a certain Irish vampire returned to Bristol recently and I’m not talking about Herrick’s protégé here.” Wyndam inhales then exhales. “Donovan Flynn. Imagine my surprise when I heard that name again.” He waits for a moment and then he moves into the living room and goes to stand in front of the fire. He lifts his head very slightly and regards the painting on the wall. It’s a large oil painting which has graced that particular wall for close to a century and he looks at it for a good few moments.

“She really was a beauty wasn’t she? Quite literally heart stopping.” He glances at her over his shoulder and his grin is quick. He looks back at it.  He sees the portrait title, ‘ _Lily_ _Vale_ , _1900’_ She’s lounging lazily in a throne like chair, her head thrown back and there’s a hint of a smile in those lovely dark blue eyes of hers. There was always a challenge in them, he muses. Her hair is properly dressed and nothing untoward is exposed but he sees the acres of milky white skin, the curve of that bottom lip and he fully understands how she was able to bewitch so many. Until John Mitchell came on the scene and oh how she had underestimated him. His lips twitch with a faint smile at the memory. His sharp blue gaze catches the signature in the bottom right hand corner

_‘J. Harper’_

One of the very few times he used his real name he believes.

“He was in the neighbourhood, came for a visit and I invited him to stay for a little while. What happened?” She glances down at the bundle of clothing that she still holds.

“He was ended in a tawdry little alley near to the hospital where John and his lady friend work. He was hanging around after a celebration and he attacked two women, one with red hair whom I’m led to believe he thought was Miss Parker.” Slowly he turns around and regards her. “Imagine that.”  He offers a tight lipped smile. “He was ended by John Mitchell himself.”

“I’m sorry to hear that…”

“Are you? Are you _really_?” he interrupts sharply. He folds his arms.

“Jessica was fond of Flynn, she’ll…she’ll be very upset to hear about this…” Eleanor stammers and her words falter when Wyndam begins to slowly shake his head.

“I know your game madam. You must think I came down in the last shower. Shame on you, shame on you indeed.” He laughs humourlessly. “Fond of Donovan Flynn? I think you’ll find Eleanor that you have the wrong vampire. Jessica wasn’t keeping company with Flynn. Oh she aimed much _much_ higher than that upstart.”

“I don’t understand…”

“I think that you do, I think you understand me completely. I can imagine that you’ve been pacing this room constantly checking the time and wondering where she is. Who do you think accompanied Flynn on his mission? Who do you think took off at the first sign of defeat and where do you think she is now?” He takes several steps towards her and he pauses in front of her.

“She’ll be in Jude Harper’s bed if I’m very much mistaken,” he whispers.

He watches her reaction.  He slowly smiles as her eyes widen and she goes rigid with shock.

“I…you….”

“Do you think I’m lying Eleanor? Do you think I would deliberately deceive you over something like this?” He turns back to look at the painting. 

“But why would you care…why would you care about Jessica?” she asks and he spins on his heel to regard her. His arms lock loosely behind his back and he scans her face, the faintest of smiles still on his face.

“I don’t,” he confirms.

“Then….”

“It’s the company that she keeps my dear, the vermin she associates with that concerns me. You remember our Mr Harper don’t you?” He nods his head towards the painting. “Such a talented artist…and there are scores of vampires just waiting to be immortalised on canvas which is handy considering we can’t be photographed or filmed.  He’s made a killing, if you pardon the pun…just not the way he should be.” Wyndam grins once more. “He’s dangerous Eleanor and your Jessica is vulnerable. She’s been a little bit rebellious of late has she not? Disappearing for hours upon end, being mysterious and secretive. Does she remind you of anyone?” His tone turns sharp. Once more he turns to face the painting more fully. He smiles softly. “But she’s been playing her cards close to her chest. Lily may have been open about her…peccadilloes…but this one….this one has been very tight-lipped but not tight lipped enough and it needs to be nipped in the bud.” He takes another, deeper breath as he turns to look at Eleanor once more. His eyes are cold. “She’s weakening and becoming further sucked under his poisonous influence and we can’t have that. I won’t allow it.”

* * *

 

Mitchell sits quietly at the kitchen table. The steaming cup of coffee remains ignored in front of him. Harper sighs quietly and sips at his own.

“I meant what I said earlier, you can drink that or I’ll force it down your throat myself.” It gets Mitchell’s attention and slowly he lifts his gaze up to his. Harper slowly shakes his head.

“Don’t goad me Mitchell…I’m just not in the mood, just drink your damned coffee, my sanity demands it,” he sighs. Mitchell sighs roughly and reaches for his mug and Harper watches him take a sip.

“You’re thinking about Shannon.” Mitchell doesn’t reply but instead replaces the cup on the kitchen table.

“I could talk to her if you like?” That does get his attention and he isn’t surprised at the strength of the glare that he receives. “Or not…it was just a suggestion…”he murmurs and he watches as Jessie slowly, hesitantly enters the kitchen. She gives Mitchell a wide berth and comes to stand beside Harper. He smiles kindly at her and slips an arm across her shoulder. He briefly hugs her to him and pours her some coffee and hands the cup to her.

“Oh you should see yourself…” Mitchell drawls and Harper turns his head and looks at him.

“Give it a rest John; you’re doing yourself no favours here,” he retorts and Mitchell shrugs slightly.

“Eleanor is planning something.”

Jessie is looking at Mitchell when she announces this. Mitchell lifts his eyes and he looks at her. He doesn’t speak and he just waits instead.

“Do you know who arranged the attack on the family who lived in Shannon’s street?” he asks. He watches her nod.

“You do too, if you think about it,” Harper injects and Mitchell looks at him. He scowls instead. Harper sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Oh excuse me, after all the alcohol you’ve consumed over the last six or more hours I’m surprised you can even think at all…”

“Oh fuck off Harper…”

“Don’t you wish?” Harper snipes back and then he stops and shakes his head.

“No…I just won’t…it’s too easy…” He takes another deep breath. “It was Eleanor Brennan, she and Jimmy Fitzgerald orchestrated and carried it out. If Shannon had been home, more than likely she would’ve been the intended target.” He watches the anger emerge on Mitchell’s face.

“And right now you want to find her and rip her head off. Not a good idea my friend, especially with a gut full of booze, no sleep and a threatening hangover. She’ll be waiting for you to connect the dots and show up on her doorstep full of righteous indignation. No…what you need to do is sleep this night off, make things right with Shannon if you want to and get the hell out of dodge, with me.” He looks between the two vampires. “What? We can go anywhere…do anything…Europe,  Asia, Oooh maybe even Africa…imagine that.” His eyes widen as he warms to his idea. “I have influences, friends so getting out of the country won’t be a problem, it’d be wonderful!”

He looks at Jessie and he smiles affectionately. “I could show you so much.” He looks at Mitchell. “If you want to, and she’s agreeable to it, we could even take Shannon along for the ride.” Mitchell slowly shakes his head and reaches for his coffee cup once more. Both of them watch him get to his feet.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” he mutters at no one in particular and leaves.

“You can have the blue bedroom, first one on the left at the top of the stairs,” Harper calls out after him. He looks at Jessie again and draws her into his arms.

“You were right…about Mitchell…he doesn’t care does he?”

“Did you want him to?”

Jessie gives a tiny little shrug. “Maybe…but he doesn’t, he doesn’t seem to care about anything.”

Harper briefly tightens his hold on her.

“He’s had a really awful night, two people were killed, his lady discovered his secret and she hasn’t reacted well which to be honest isn’t that much of a surprise. I’ve yet to meet someone who reacts to the news that someone they know is a vampire with anything less than complete and abject horror.”

“Aren’t you afraid he’ll leave?” Jessie asks.

“He won’t. He needs a place of safety for now and I’m the only one who can give him that. I don’t have an ulterior motive, well not completely ulterior.” He draws her back and he smiles at her. “Sleep my darling, we need to sleep. Once we’ve done that then we can talk some more, there are plans to make, adventures to be had and all of that!” His eyes twinkle and she smiles at him.

* * *

 

She stands in the entrance of her bedroom and she stares at the unmade bed. She closes her eyes for a moment and she remembers the feel of his mouth against her skin, how cool his hands felt on her body, how he made her feel. He made her feel so much and so quickly. She opens her eyes and she blinks.

She hurts. Everything just…hurts and there’s no relief, no comfort no…nothing.

Mitchell is a vampire? She frowns at the memory of his revelation. Does such a creature really exist? She sighs raggedly and rubs at her face. Her eyes feel gritty and too big for her head. Her make-up is long gone.

What else can explain that full black shiny gaze, the reaction to the sight of blood? He stood there in front of her, trembling with blood dripping from his fingertips and all she was able to remember was the girl in the locker room with the exact same eyes. What else exists if vampires are real?

She thinks of him now, so remote, so isolated. He’s darkness and fear and death. His face is angles and planes and shadows, so many shadows but before she knew about the shadows he had been charm and he had made her feel so alive. Isn’t that a contradiction given his confession?

She feels overwhelmed; there is so much to contemplate, to absorb. Everything has changed beyond recognition. She sees the small brown bottle that is on the coffee table and she stares at it. They gave it to her before she’d left the hospital, to help her to sleep they said, to help her to function but she regards it warily now. She understands it’s uses, she’s advocated it to patients but now she’s in the same boat, she regards the small bottle with an air of distrust. She sighs and shakes it out of her and she closes her eyes once again.

Her thoughts go back to Mitchell as they have been doing constantly since all of this unfolded. She wants to see him, she wants to talk to him but she doesn’t know whether she’s ready to understand. The words tumble haphazardly around inside of her head. She wants him to put his arms around her and tell her that everything is okay, that everything _will be_ okay. She wants to open her eyes and realise that it’s all be a horrifically vivid nightmare. She inhales sharply and finds herself staring at the pill bottle again.

Her eyes are wide open and everything is still the same.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The afternoon after the night before....

**Chapter Nineteen:**

He manages to grab a few hours of sleep but he has tossed and turned. When he’s able to sleep then it’s filled with nightmares. The last one is enough. He wakes on a gasp and that’s when his expected hangover decides to kick in. His head pounds and his stomach is queasy. He slowly, laboriously climbs out of the wide double bed and he sits on the side of it and cradles his head in his hands.  His first thoughts are of her. He wants to see Shannon again; he has to talk to her. He wants to see her but he’s scared. He hopes that her rejection has been down to the utter trauma of the night before and that this time she’ll be more willing to listen to him.

The house is quiet as he leaves his room. He doesn’t make a sound as he heads down the stairs and navigates his way to the kitchen. He goes towards the kettle and hopes that Harper possesses some tea. Maybe that’ll help to settle his stomach a little bit. He can’t face food. He also wonders whether he has any paracetamol. He pauses by the sink and he grips the edge of it as a wave of nausea surges through him.

“Morning…or should I say afternoon?” Mitchell slowly and experimentally turns his head and watches Harper walk in. He smiles at him but Mitchell doesn’t have the energy to smile back. He turns his head and stares back at the sink, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Here.”

Mitchell opens his eyes again when he hears Harper’s voice and sees a hand open in front of him with two small white tablets in the middle. The other hand holds a glass of orange juice. Mitchell takes the pills with a slight smile of gratitude.

“And this, the vitamin C will help,” Harper continues and pushes the glass into his hand. Obediently Mitchell swallows down the pills and takes a mouthful of juice.

“Feel like eating anything?” the older vampire asks and isn’t surprised when Mitchell briefly shakes his head as he sits at the kitchen table. He places the glass on the surface in front of him and stares at it for a moment.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“A bit,” Mitchell confesses.

“Thinking about Shannon.”

Mitchell lifts his head slightly and he looks at him but doesn’t offer anything in reply. Harper sighs and lowers himself into the seat beside him.

“If you want my opinion then you should give her a little bit of time, she’s reeling a bit and she might not understand a visit from you about now.”

“I need to…explain…make her understand…”

“I know…but if she doesn’t want to listen or to understand then there’s nothing on this earth that you can do. Give it time.”

Mitchell just regards him.

“You haven’t ever been in this position, felt like this?” He doesn’t like the feelings of panic that are gripping him. Harper shrugs slightly but says nothing. Mitchell shifts in his seat. “You’ve been around a long time…you say you’ve been off the blood for what, five hundred years? How do you survive the continuous craving?”

“Truthfully? With a _lot_ of practice, willpower and surrounding myself with like-minded friends, people who believe in me and support and respect what I believe in.”

“Which I don’t have.”

“But you _could_ have if you’ll let me help you,” Harper tells him and then sighs. “It isn’t easy Mitchell and some take to it easier than others. There are those of us who abhor what we are and what we believe in and they want to wipe us off the face of the earth.”

“Edgar Wyndam.”

Harper shrugs one shoulder. “To name one but yeah, him.”

“He’s quite an opponent, do you know him?”

Harper just nods. “I know him,” he confirms and leaves it at that. Mitchell regards him for another moment before taking another sip of his juice. He turns his head when he hears movement and he slowly replaces his glass when he sees Jessie slowly enter the kitchen. He watches her. She’s wearing an oversized men’s dressing gown, the sleeves rolled back several times. Mitchell turns his head slightly as Harper gets to his feet and approaches her.

“We need to get you some new clothes,” he comments, straightening the oversized shoulders a little. Her answering smile is on the rueful side.

“So you’re leaving Eleanor?” Mitchell asks her and Jessie’s eyes widen slightly as she looks at him. He watches her slowly nod.

“Really, just like that?” Mitchell’s tone becomes cynical. He sits back in his seat. “You think she’ll let you walk away? You’re Lily’s replacement and she won’t let you go without a fight.” He glances at Harper who slides an arm across her shoulders. “And she’s an Old One, she has clout, she’ll have Wyndam on her side.”

Harper frowns. “How do you know that?”

Mitchell gets to his feet and he pauses for a moment.

“Back in the old days, after I killed her precious girl, Herrick and I were called to a meeting to Wyndam’s house just outside of the city. Huge place I remember. Anyway, Eleanor was there and she wanted me to be punished for what I’d done but I wasn’t. Instead we went to Rome for a bit until she’d calmed down but I remember that she was utterly… _insane_ …about losing Lily. She’s like an overbearing parent and she will not let you go without a fight.” He glances at Harper once more. “Even with you on board.”

He watches how he draws Jessie closer to him and he swallows down against the feeling of envy. He wants that same connection, he wants Shannon beside him.

“We don’t even know Wyndam is in town,” Harper answers and Mitchell shrugs.

“That’s true but we don’t know that he isn’t. He’s an ice cold bastard, I don’t doubt if he doesn’t want to be seen then he won’t be.”

Harper sighs quietly. “You’re right, for all we know he could be in Bristol right now and we’re none the wiser.” His expression turns sombre.

“I thought you had a network of informants?” Jessie reminds him.

“A network is only as good as its informants. Sometimes the information turns out to be false and Mitchell is right, if Wyndam wants to be hidden then he will be. I know how to do it and he will too.”

“Sounds like you know each other well,” Mitchell comments and Harper regards him.

“Well it’s been a while but some behavioural patterns don’t change,” he murmurs.

Mitchell returns to his room. His jacket has appeared and is hung up on the back of the door. He stares at it for a moment before unhooking it. He sighs raggedly and clutches it between his hands. He closes his eyes and thinks about leaving, about going to see Shannon. He turns and tosses the jacket onto the bed and as he does, something falls out of the pocket and tumbles onto the carpet. Slowly, laboriously he reaches down and picks it up. It’s a slip of paper, folded into four. He unfolds it and looks at it.

_She slides the slip of paper across the table and Shannon’s smile is flirtatious. He picks it up and looks at it. It’s a phone number, actually it’s two phone numbers._

_“My mobile and my land line, I thought it’d be a good idea.”_

_He looks back at the numbers before looking back at her. “I don’t have a phone…or a mobile…” he stammers and she shrugs and smiles at him._

_“There are still phone boxes Mitchell…or you could get yourself a mobile?” she suggests. He smiles at her and folds the slip of paper in half and then in half again. He slides it into his jacket pocket._

_“Maybe I will,” he replies._

How could he have forgotten that he had this? He stares at it. He lifts his head slightly and sees the phone on the bedside table. Before he can talk himself out of it, he heads to it. It’s an old fashioned thing with an old fashioned spin dial and not the number pads used today. He sits on the side of the bed and picks up the receiver.

He calls the landline number and his stomach churns nervously as it begins to ring out.

“Yes. Hello?” The voice on the other end is cautious and tired. It’s like she knows that it’s him.

“Shannon. Please don’t hang up…” He grips the receiver tightly in his hand.

“What do you want Mitchell?” she asks him and he can hear her weariness in every single word. He swallows.

“How are you?” he asks in halting tones. There’s a long silence. He can hear her ragged breathing and he closes his eyes tightly.

“Well considering my best friend was… _murdered_ last night, how do you think I feel?” she retorts.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry about that…”

“The person who did it…is he…”

He opens his eyes and stares blindly across the room. “Like me? Yeah he was. He’s…gone Shannon; he won’t hurt you or anyone else again.” He hears her inhale sharply and he feels emotion tighten in his throat.

“Did you kill him?”

“Yes.”

There’s another silence.

“Good. I’m glad.” she informs him and the amount of dignity in her voice stuns him.

“I need to see you Shannon, there’s so… _much_ that I need to explain to you. Can we meet up? The choice of where is yours.” He waits. He hears her sigh raggedly and what sounds like a sob rip from her.

“Oh not yet Mitchell, I’m not ready yet. You need to understand that. I have so much to do…here…with Abby…her funeral…I’ve had her mum on the phone today and she’s so heartbroken and it’s just about done me in so I can’t face you right now. It would be too much,” she confesses. He bows his head.

“Okay…I’m staying with a …friend right now, if I give you his number, will you get in touch with me when you’re ready to talk?” He waits once more. Another silence stretches out between them.

“Yeah…okay…”

He recites the number that is written on the phone.

“Thanks Mitchell, I’ll be in touch soon.”

He swallows against sharply bitter disappointment but Harper did warn him that if she wasn’t ready to talk then there is nothing that he can do about it.

“That’s all that I can hope for. I’m truly sorry…about what happened to Abby…and afterwards.” His words fade away.

“Thank you. Talk to you soon.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. He hears the click as she disconnects the call and for a moment he listens to nothing in particular until he slowly replaces the receiver.

He blinks back against the burning at the backs of his eyes.

* * *

 

Harper notices that he’s wearing different clothes and he can’t smell the overpowering reek of alcohol that seemed to emanate from his pores the previous night. He stands in front of his easel but he’s hyper aware of Mitchell as he stands in the doorway and his eyes skitter around the conservatory and it’s contents.

“It’s okay, you can come in,” he tells him and after a moment’s brief pause, Mitchell steps over the threshold. Harper watches him out of the corner of his eye.

“Can I look?” Mitchell asks, indicating a covered easel nearby. Harper’s first reaction is to refuse but he has to tread carefully with this one. A bit of give and take can work wonders. He nods instead. He watches Mitchell uncover the portrait of Matthew. Mitchell regards it for a moment and then turns his head and looks at him.

“Your sire?”

“How did you know?”

“I didn’t, it was a guess. Is he still around?” Harper shakes his head. He puts down the paintbrush he’d been holding and he walks to Mitchell’s side.

“No, he died. Wyndam killed him.” He doesn’t look at him but he can feel his shock.

“And that’s why you hate him?” Harper regards him this time and his look is measured.

“I don’t hate him Mitchell, hate is such a waste of an emotion.”

“Oh I dunno, it can make a man function, give him a reason to go on sometimes.”

Harper sighs and returns his attention to the painting. “Oh the stories I could tell you John, about Matthew, about Wyndam. Matthew wanted us to be like brothers but Wyndam wasn’t too keen on that idea initially.”

Mitchell frowns at him. “Why not?”

“He’s not the family type is our Edgar. At first he saw me as a nuisance, a bore. I didn’t make the choice to become forsaken until I was a couple of centuries old so before that Wyndam was my nursemaid for want of a better description. I took to the vampire way of life like a duck to water. I wasn’t kidding when I said I had quite the reputation in the day, I did and Wyndam loved that. He was notorious all by himself but the pair of us…we were the Toxic Twins times a thousand.”

“What changed?” Mitchell turns slightly towards him, listening intently, a frown furrowing his brow. Harper glances at him and then looks away.

“I got bored. Killing began to sicken me, I began to see them as people and not as…food. Matthew knew of course. He waited for me and he was happy that I became like him. Wyndam was being courted as we later found out. He wanted me to join him but I refused. Wyndam blamed Matthew and ended him. He asked me again, no, that’s not strictly true; he just held out a hand and waited for me to take it. I refused and he left. We’ve not set eyes on each other since,” he confesses quietly.

“But you’re aware of him.”

Harper regards Mitchell for what feels like a long time. “One thing you must never ever do in the presence of Edgar Wyndam and that is turn your back, never turn your back on him John.” His voice is quiet. Silence stretches between them before Harper takes a long, deep shaky breath.

“How’s the head?” he asks in a brighter tone that makes Mitchell blink.

“Oh…ummm…fine I guess,” he mumbles.

“It’s amazing what paracetemol, vitamin c and a nice hot shower can do for a man isn’t it?” He flashes a grin at him. He watches him for a moment. “And you’ve been in touch with Shannon haven’t you?” he adds on and the smile returns more slowly at Mitchell’s expression of pure surprise.

“How the hell do you do that?” he gasps and Harper chuckles.

“Oh I’m not psychic, don’t worry. You’re talking to me Mitchell and that tells me that you’ve been in contact instead off ignoring me, thinking about her and brooding, something that you do very well incidentally.” He turns and walks back to his easel. He stares at it for a moment before lifting his eyes to him. “What did she say?” He watches his expression turn thoughtful.

“Well she didn’t scream at me to never darken her doorway again, so there’s that. A lot’s happening, I gave her this number and she said she’ll be in touch.”

“That’s all you can hope for Mitchell. She’s thinking logically about things despite her current difficulties. You just have to learn how to have some patience.”

Mitchell sighs roughly. “It’s hard.”

“Anything worth having doesn’t come along easily my friend.”

* * *

 

He stands in the middle of the opulent lobby and lifts his eyes to stare up at the high white ceilings. It’s been a while since he was last here. He likes this house of all of his properties in the south west. When people are summoned here, they notice where they are, they’re struck dumb by the show of wealth and he must admit to feeling a frisson of excitement at the expression of awe on their faces as they take in their surroundings. It is awe then followed by pure fear when they realise what’s about to happen to them. He smiles to himself.

Humans and troublesome vampires rarely leave this place of their own accord. Only two have done so in recent years.

It’s funny how those two are back in his thoughts again, and that’s not a good place for them to be. He likes to be forgiving and benevolent when the mood strikes him but what he doesn’t like is to be betrayed.

Part of him wants to strike now and strike hard. He wants to stride into the lair of the serpent and annihilate and punish but it’s been so long since they last set eyes upon each other. He has to be extremely patient if he wants to see this to it's longed for conclusion.

The phone in his pocket buzzes to life. He answers it promptly.

“Yes, what is it?” He listens intently. “Are you absolutely sure about that?”

He sighs impatiently. “And your source is sure that he saw him in his company?”

“It is as I’d feared and therefore unacceptable. This is not good news Joshua, not good news at all. I fear we must put the next phase of our plan into action quicker than I’d anticipated. I need to discuss matters with Eleanor.” he disconnects and pockets his phone again. He’s frowning now.

“John Mitchell, you’re an utter and complete fool,” he sighs under his breath.

* * *

 

Harper watches as they circle each other almost warily. It’s been a quiet time so far, no fur has flown, no more black eyes or fangs exposed. Mitchell has prowled restlessly, has sat in the garden and brooded and Jessie for the most part has remained out of sight.

He smiles softly when he sees her enter the conservatory. He discards the chalks he’s been working with and covers what he’s been working on. He walks towards her and she’s in his arms. Her hair is inky black against ice white skin and it makes her eyes look so blue that they’re almost indigo. She isn’t wearing a scrap of make-up and her hair is loose about her shoulders.

“I need to tell you something,” she confesses and he frowns slightly at her.

“Am I going to like it?” he asks and she shrugs.

“I hope so.”

He sighs quietly. “Okay…then tell me.” 

She looks up at him. “I want to be with you. I want to become forsaken.”

She sees how his eyes widen with surprise.

“Wow…that was quick…and wonderful…” He hugs her to him and the scent of violets surrounds him and intoxicates him for a moment. He draws her back again. “Are you absolutely sure? It will not be easy, it’s been described as hell on earth and that’s rather true. You’ll suffer unimaginable pain and feel utterly gripped by blood thirst and madness, it isn’t for the weak hearted.”

“I’m sure but I have just one condition.”

“Name it.”

“I need to go back to the house first.”

Harper frowns at her. “But why?…Anything you need, I can buy for you. You don’t need to go back there.”

“I have things, treasures there Jude, photographs and trinkets from my human life, of my brothers, my parents…they’ve travelled everywhere with me.” She watches his expression. “Please Jude, I need them. I can go and get them. I’ll be in and out in next to no time.”

“And what if Eleanor is there, what will you say to her?” His grip on her shoulders tightens very slightly.

“She won’t be…”

“You didn’t come home last night Jessie, of course she’ll be there.”

Jessie sighs raggedly. “So I won’t say anything to her. I can get a few essentials, my treasures and the rest we can buy like you said.”

“Let me come with you.”

He watches her shake her head.

“I’ll be quicker by myself. I’m not a child Jude, I can do this.”

He sighs raggedly and lowers his hands. He pulls long fingers through untidy hair. “All right. When are you going to go?”

“Soon.”

“Okay but if you’re not back by dusk then I’m going in there to get you myself, is that understood?” He watches her smile and slowly nod. He can’t help but smile in response. He takes a step towards her and steals a kiss. He feels a blush warm his cheeks as he straightens and she giggles.

* * *

 

Shannon starts when she hears the rapid knock on her door. She frowns in irritation and is tempted to ignore it. Didn’t Mitchell understand what she had said to him earlier? There’s another rap on the door and she approaches it and pauses.

“Mitchell…this really isn’t a good time….” she begins. She fastens the chain on the door.

“Please…” She frowns at the female voice and she opens the door and peeps out.

She looks to be in her early forties with ashy blond hair and smooth unlined skin. She smiles at her.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you….but my car has broken down outside of your building and it seems as you’re the only one home this afternoon…would it be impertinent of me to ask whether I could use your phone? The battery on my mobile has died and I don’t have any change for a pay phone….” She smiles hopefully and Shannon regards her.

“It’s not really a good time…” she begins. She’s so tired and can’t be bothered.

“Oh please…I’ll be in and out in five minutes; you won’t even know I’m here. You’d be saving a life.” She widens her eyes imploringly. Shannon sighs. Five minutes, a good deed, something positive however small.

“Just a minute,” she answers and closes the door. She unhooks the chain and opens the door wider. The woman smiles at her.

“Come on in.”

 

 

 


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins...

**Chapter Twenty**

_“I don’t hate him Mitchell, hate is such a waste of an emotion.”_

_“Oh I dunno, it can make a man function, give him a reason to go on sometimes.”_

Mitchell watches him. He’s stared at his canvas for the last ten minutes but not touched it or altered it. He’s paced the length of the conservatory under the pretence of examining what is hidden beneath the drop cloths over the other easels but Mitchell isn’t fooled.

Jessie left about an hour ago. She’s going back to collect a few treasured possessions and she has promised to return. He doesn’t see the point in doing that, but then again he doesn’t own anything he considers a treasure. Mitchell glances down at his tea cup and he wishes for something stronger. His stomach still churns at the thought of solid food but his headache has disappeared. He takes a breath and swallows down the last of his tea and he puts the cup down onto one of the wrought iron tables dotted around. At the sound that it makes, Harper swings around. Slowly and languidly Mitchell unfurls his body and he gets to his feet.

“We could drive to Eleanor’s house and wait outside or a safe distance away for Jessie?” he suggests. He watches Harper’s eyes widen in surprise.

“You’d do that?”

Mitchell shrugs. “You’re like a cat on hot bricks and it’s driving me nuts so yeah I would.” He watches how he seems to mull his suggestion over and then slowly, almost regretfully he shakes his head.

“No, I have to trust her. She said she’ll be back and she will be,” he answers softly. Mitchell sighs quietly.

“Then stop pacing, it’s doing my head in. Get yourself a beer or something…or paint or do whatever it is that you do,” he retorts and Harper grins at him.

“A beer sounds right good about now, want one?” He heads towards the kitchen and Mitchell follows.

“Sure,” he agrees. He watches him head towards the fridge but just at that moment the phone in the living room begins to ring and instantly Mitchell’s stomach tightens. He turns his head towards the sound and immediately he hopes. Of his own volition he follows Harper out and into the living room, hovering uncertainly in the doorway as the older vampire snatches up the phone. He folds his arms tightly across his chest and he waits.

“Hello…Carl? I’m glad you called because I have…what?” Mitchell watches how Harper’s spine stiffens. He copies, straightening up and unfolding his arms. Slowly Harper turns to look at Mitchell and he doesn’t like the frown he can see developing on his face.

“When?” he demands tightly. “You’re absolutely sure…and he’s there now?”

Mitchell feels an icy trickle of something slither down his spine.

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll deal with it…thanks.” He replaces the receiver and a slow, ragged sigh escapes from him. He looks at Mitchell again.

“Wyndam has surfaced. He’s in Bristol and one of my people says he’s at Eleanor Brennan’s house.”

Mitchell’s eyes widen.

“Right now?” he splutters and Harper nods.

“I have a really bad feeling about this…we need to go…” He strides out of the room and back into the kitchen. Instead of heading for the fridge, he picks up a bunch of keys from a nearby bench. He turns. Mitchell is still standing in the doorway.

“Go where?” he exclaims and Harper rolls his eyes.

“To get Jessie. If he’s at Eleanor’s house then he knows about Jessie and me. He’s been biding his time, just waiting for his opportunity,” he retorts and then sighs and fixes him with a look.

“Coming?”

* * *

 

Carefully, cautiously she opens the door and slips inside. She pauses and listens. She can hear low conversation and she silently curses. Her hand tightens briefly on the door knob and momentarily she closes her eyes. She straightens. She’s done this before, slipped into the house undetected and there’s no reason why she can’t do it again. This is the beginning of the rest of her life; her whole future with Jude stretches out in front of her like a warm, inviting blanket and as her eyes re-open, she smiles softly. She closes the door behind her and she makes her way to the stairs. She hurries up them and doesn’t look back.

She doesn’t see him emerge and stand at the bottom of the staircase. He turns his head and silently watches her progress upwards.

She’s nervous as she enters her bedroom. She goes to her wardrobe and she pulls out a medium sized holdall from the bottom of it. She turns and puts it onto her bed. She begins to gather her treasures; her jewellery box, which holds the odd piece of jewellery but more importantly contains her few precious photographs. She grabs a few items of clothing and pushes them inside, burying her jewellery box amidst them. As an afterthought she drops in a bottle of her perfume. She pauses, her brain mulling over what else she needs to pack and it’s then that she becomes aware of a strange stillness in the air, the back of her neck and the top of her spine prickle with it.  She spins around and gasps in fright when she sees him standing in the doorway. He’s leaning against the door frame, his arms folded and he’s just watching her.

She stares at him with wide eyes and watches a slow smile drift across his face. He straightens up and unfolds his arms.

“I’m sorry, did I startle you?” he enquires softly. She nods rapidly in response. He takes a couple of slow steps towards her and he pauses. The smile remains on his face but it does nothing to reassure her.

“You must be Jessie,” he comments. His eyes slide around the room, taking in the sparse furnishings before fixing upon her face once more.  “Eleanor has a habit of calling her protégée’s by their full names which is a bit…old-fashioned don’t you think?” He doesn’t wait for her response as he moves closer to the neatly made bed. “And I expect that you prefer Jessie anyway.” He receives another rapid nod in response. His chilly blue eyes take in the half filled holdall. “It suits you better I think. Eleanor is much too formal.” He looks at her and smiles at her once again. He turns and lowers himself onto the side of the bed. He doesn’t break eye contact and neither does she.

He has to admit, Eleanor has a real eye for the pretty ones. Lily had been stunning, he hadn’t been lying earlier, she truly had been and that had been to her detriment. Now this one, he appraises her, _this_ one has real promise. He almost wishes he’d been the one to sire her back then. He would’ve taken better care of her.

“How about you and I get to know one another Jessie?” he invites and he pats the mattress beside him. His expression is expectant. She stays rooted to the spot.

“I don’t know…who you are…sir,” she whispers.

He smiles again. “You don’t? Now there’s a novelty. My name, Jessie, is Mr Wyndam but you may call me Edgar.” He watches her expression freeze at his introduction but his smile doesn’t waver. Instead he gets to his feet. “Ah. It seems you may have heard of me.”

He approaches her and pauses in front of her. There’s barely an inch between them. He takes in her milky flawless skin and those enormous blue eyes of hers. He sees dark smudges bruising the skin underneath her eyes. She looks tired. Her inky black hair is dishevelled and loose about her shoulders. He has a vision of her with her hair fastened up in a suitably elaborate style, emphasising that long slender neck and decorated with rubies and diamonds. He entertains the idea of taking her back to South America. Wouldn’t Harper just _love_ that idea?

“You’re such a pretty little thing aren’t you?” He reaches out and gently lays a palm against the side of her face. He feels how she stiffens. “There’s no need to be afraid Jessie, I won’t hurt you. Your head has been turned; your heart has been…opened. You want to be with him, it’s perfectly natural to feel like that.”

“I don’t know…”

He takes his hand away and subtly shakes his head. “Please Jessie, I know…about Jude Harper…your relationship with him. I’m sure you thought you were being…discreet but really…it wasn’t a well-kept secret at all.” He watches how her eyes slowly widen in realisation.

“Does…”

“Eleanor know? Well she does now and she’s not very happy with you at the moment. It took me a little while to calm her down but I’m sure she’ll be prepared to forgive and forget if you promise her that you’ll forget this period of…madness and return to the fold.” He waits.

“Mr Wyndam….”

“Edgar…” he interrupts and she gives him a startled look. “I said that you may call me Edgar and I meant it but before you go on let me talk to you. You’re young, you’re young in vampire years and you’re young chronologically. You were what, eighteen years old when you were recruited? You’ve hardly begun to live your life at that age.” He grasps her upper arms with infinite gentleness and he turns her around and manoeuvres her back until the backs of her legs hit the side of the bed and she automatically sits down. Wyndam remains standing in front of her and she raises her head to look at him.

“Eleanor has kept you on a very tight leash, given you a list of rules and regulations and I can imagine that after a while you begin to get a little bit… _tired_ of them and want to fledge your wings a little bit. I can understand that, I went through a phase like that myself once upon a time a very long while ago.” His lips tilt with the slightest vestige of a smile. It quickly disappears. “You haven’t been handled very well have you? I can understand Eleanor being the way she is, given what happened to your predecessor. That was a very nasty business. I do understand why you would be drawn to someone like Mr Harper, why his way of life would appeal to you. Like I’ve already said, you’re young and you’re impressionable.” He sits down on the bed beside her but he’s careful to maintain a certain distance from her.

“You want to make your own way in the world, with someone by your side who claims to care about you but what do you really know about Mr Harper Jessie?” He watches as she turns her head towards him.

“He…loves me…wants to be with me and I want to be with him.”

“And to be with him then you’d have to declare yourself forsaken, am I right?”

“He has said that it’s completely my choice but yes…” Her words falter at the light that seems to burn fiercely behind those blue eyes of his.

“ _Completely_ your choice? Is it your choice to endure the pain, the hunger and the utter madness that this existence provides? Without blood you will wither, you’ll become weak and inconsequential, you’ll be no one.” He reaches for one of her hands and holds it carefully between his own. “You could be by my side Jessie, would you like that? I could give you so much more. I could make you powerful, make you a queen.” His voice lowers and she can’t help herself as she stares at him, utterly transfixed. “Just say the word and it’s yours. Do you like this house?” He waits and watches as she glances away, suddenly startled and her eyes flicker around the room, at the plainly painted walls.

“I could give it to you…or a castle if that’s what you wish for. Jude Harper will drag you down into the muck where he and his kind exist. They are nothing more than vermin my dear, an abomination to their kind.”

Her head snaps around to him again. “But I love him…and he loves me…he promised me…”

“Promised you what Jessie? What do vampires know of love? It’s an anathema to us, a joke. We claim to profess it but it’s just a means to an end, a ruse to get what we want, what we should have. It’s all a lie.” His voice lowers conspiratorially. “He’ll say anything to keep you but he’ll never be able to protect you.” He watches her. He slips off the bed and her eyes widen as he kneels at her feet.

“The power I can grant you will make others whisper your name and tremble with fear. My name can open doors to you that you could never imagine.”

“But what about Eleanor?” she whispers.

“Eleanor will do whatever I tell her to do. Think about it, think about what I could offer you compared to what Harper has offered. If you stay with us then the world is your oyster, you can have anything, _anyone_ that you want.”

“Except for Jude.”

“Except for Jude,” he confirms and he slowly gets to his feet. His gaze is steady upon her face. He holds out a hand and waits expectantly. She takes it and allows him to draw her to her feet. He draws her a step closer to him. His eyes scan her face.

“When was the last time that you fed my dear?” he enquires in a low voice. She blinks.

“Just look at you…your clothes are grubby, your hair is loose and unkempt, no make-up…this won’t do. You look… _unwell_.” His hand touches her face again. “You haven’t fed recently, you haven’t slept properly and as a result you’re open to suggestion, easily corrupted. Come with me.” His hand tightens on hers as he turns. She stiffens in alarm and Wyndam looks back at her. “You will come with me Jessie,” he instructs her and she hears the steel in his tone. There’s a brief moment of clarity. Whatever she decides to do, neither Wyndam nor Eleanor intends to let her go. Mitchell was right. She swallows down the fear and allows him to lead her out of the room.

She’s trembling from nerves now as Wyndam leads her into the living room. If Eleanor knows as Mr Wyndam has suggested, then she will not be happy and she’ll be looking to punish her. She wonders what that punishment will be. The trembling becomes stronger.

Her eyes are huge as she takes in the other people in the room. She sees Jimmy, Oliver, Francesca as well as Eleanor. She’s seated on the sofa by the fireplace and of their own volition, Jessie’s eyes lift to the painting above it. Her predecessor, Mr Wyndam had called her. She swallows against a dry throat. She looks to Eleanor. She’s pale and unsmiling but she regards her steadily.

“Everyone…you remember Jessie don’t you?” Wyndam introduces and there’s a low murmur of agreement. Wyndam leads her further into the room before pausing. Eleanor gets to her feet and she slowly approaches them. She glances briefly at Wyndam before she returns her attention to Jessie.

“Really Jessica, you couldn’t get dressed for Mr Wyndam’s arrival?” she chides but Jessie hears the stiffness beneath her tone.

“It’s not important Eleanor, what’s important is that Jessie is here now. How about we have a drink to celebrate?” He turns and looks at Oliver.

“If you please Oliver.”

* * *

 

He watches her as she’s brought out. He wonders whether she’ll remember her. He turns his head when he hears Oliver return with their refreshment and he smiles.

Jessie sees the girl with the pale skin and the burnished dark red hair. She’s staring around the room with wide frightened eyes, a gag in her mouth preventing her from making any kind of sound. She’s trembling and her face is streaked with tears. Jessie feels a stirring of sympathy for her. The poor girl, does she have any idea of what she’s in for tonight? She takes a step towards her and then stops. What is she doing? She turns her head and looks at the other vampires present in the room. They’re all staring at the newcomer with avarice in their black eyes. She turns her head back to her. She seems vaguely familiar but she’s so tired and Mr Wyndam is right, she _is_ hungry, she’s ravenously hungry.

“How about you have first taste Jessie?” Wyndam invites and Jessie turns shocked eyes his way. His answering smile is benevolent. Oliver urges the girl a couple of steps closer and Jessie looks at her. She can hear her heart thundering in her chest, it’s really quite loud and…distracting. She can smell her; she’s a mixture of soap, deodorant and faded perfume.

“Please…I insist,” he urges in a low voice and she takes another step towards her. The girl stares at her with wide terrified eyes. She’s shaking violently, breathing heavily against her gag. Oliver grabs a swatch of her red hair and pulls it to one side, exposing a length of pale smooth skin. Jessie’s gaze sharpens as she focuses upon the faint throb of her pulse beating beneath. Her mouth waters, she anticipates how she’ll taste and she feels her eyes flood black.

A murmur of approval ripples around the room as Jessie feeds.

* * *

 

Harper stops the car outside of the house. He looks out of the window at the building. Every light is blazing and judging by the cars parked in front of his, they have guests.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath and Mitchell looks at him.

“What’s the matter?”

 Harper looks at him.

“I think they’re expecting us.” He reaches in front of him and pulls open the glove compartment. Mitchell’s eyes go wide when he sees him extract two wooden stakes.

“Whoa, we’re not exactly Buffy the Vampire Slayer here!” he exclaims in alarm.

Harper frowns at him as he hands one of them to him. “For protection. I can imagine Wyndam has made it clear that we aren’t to be harmed,” he retorts and Mitchell frowns in confusion.

“Really and how do you get that?”

Harper sighs raggedly. “Because he likes to play the game far too much. Come on.” Mitchell watches him climb out of the car and a millisecond later he follows suit.

* * *

 

“Mr Wyndam, we have visitors,” Oliver announces. Wyndam tears his gaze away from Jessie and looks at him. He smiles broadly.

“And with impeccable timing as always. Let them in Oliver,” he instructs and he returns his attention to Jessie and the deathly pale girl crumpled in her arms.

 

 

 

 

 


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All hell breaks loose as two sides come together.

**Chapter Twenty One:**

They enter the large house. It seems as though Harper’s hunch is correct, they haven’t been challenged and no one has demanded to know why they’re here. The fact that they’re expected does not sit any more comfortably with Mitchell.

They pause and listen. Harper turns his head and he looks at Mitchell. “This way,” he murmurs and they head left.

The door is half open and as they approach it, the conversation becomes more audible. Harper pushes the door open wider and as he expects, the conversation fades. Slowly he enters the room. He pauses with an abruptness that causes Mitchell to pull up sharply. He turns around and moves slightly to the left. He looks at Mitchell.

“Perhaps you should go back to the car?” he suggests, placing a hand on his shoulder. Mitchell glances at the hand and then back at his face. He sees the expression there, he looks almost… _sorrowful_ and it makes him frown.

“What…why?” He looks down again as Harper’s hand tightens on his shoulder.

“It might be better if you do.” He keeps his voice low.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Mitchell demands irritably, confused by his sudden change in mood. He asks him to accompany him and now he’s sending him back to the car? It makes no sense unless…

“He’s trying to be kind Mitchell…” Wyndam intervenes and Mitchell’s head snaps up and he sees him across the room. He’s standing beside someone, in front of the fireplace and Mitchell’s frown deepens with confusion. He moves a slow step to the right and is conscious of Harper’s hand tightening slightly on his shoulder.

“Kind…why?” His gaze scatters around the room and he wonders what it is that he’s missing. He recognises Eleanor and also Jimmy from the hospital.

_We’ve been looking for you mate._

He looks back towards Eleanor. There’s an almost…pleased expression on her face. His gaze then zeroes in on who it is standing beside Wyndam.

It’s Jessie and he realises that she hasn’t acknowledged their presence at all. He sees how she’s hunched over with her back to them and he realises with a jolt that she’s feeding. At the same time he catches a drift of that familiar coppery tang and he feels age old longing begin to rise inside of him. It’s all he can do not to lick his lips.

“Jessie,” Wyndam’s voice is gentle “We have guests.”

Jessie lifts her head and she looks first to him and then she turns her head and she looks over her shoulder at Harper and Mitchell, they see the bleary unfocused expression on her blood smeared face. Mitchell watches how her expression suddenly clears. Horror dawns and she looks down at the girl in her arms. Mitchell follows suit.

“Oh…God,” she breathes.

* * *

 

Mitchell recognises the dark red hair and the realisation is like a sharp punch to the gut. His eyes widen in utter disbelief. Shock turns him rigid.

“ _NO!_ ” he roars. He tries to push past Harper in his haste to get to Shannon but he tightens his grip on both of his shoulders and pulls him back.

“Mitchell…it’s too late," he quietly tells him. Mitchell tries to pull away from him and he struggles but Harper holds on and eventually he stops and the only sound in the room is of his laboured breathing.

“What the hell have you _done_?” he bellows at her instead and the emotion is raw in his voice. Harper watches how Jessie seems to recoil in horror at what she has done, she lets go of Shannon and the girl crumples bonelessly to the floor.

“Oh God…God…Jesus…Shannon,” Mitchell moans, his eyes taking in her still, pale body lying alone on the carpet. He then looks around at the vampires gathered around.

“Why… _why?”_ he demands furiously.

“Why not?” Eleanor interrupts silkily and he turns his head and glares at her.

“This was you? She’s done nothing to you, to any of you!” he exclaims. His dark gaze sweeps the other occupants of the room.

“Mitchell…I’m…so…”

“If you tell me you’re sorry then God help me I will _end_ you here and now. If you value your pathetic life then you will shut up immediately,” Mitchell hisses at her and she falls wisely silent.

Harper releases his hold on him and watches as he stumbles towards Shannon. He drops to his knees beside her and he gathers her up into his arms. He looks down at her and brushes away a lock of fiery red hair that is stuck against her cheek and pulls the gag free from her mouth. Her eyes are closed. He feels helpless angry tears flood his eyes.

She’s so pale and silent. Her skin is icy white, her lips are tinged blue and the ragged wound on the side of her neck is still oozing blood. Her chest is still. He gathers her up into his arms and he lifts her. The occupants of the room watch as he lays her gently on one of the sofas. He straightens and then slowly turns to look at Jessie. She still stands beside Wyndam and she’s watching him with scared, regretful eyes. Harper hasn’t moved an inch but he’s watching him, as is everyone else. They’re waiting to see how he’ll react. The air is heavy with expectation.

Mitchell storms towards Jessie and he’s pulling something out of the back pocket of his jeans as he does so. Nobody stops him as he grabs Jessie by her throat and he flings her up against the wall.  The sight of Shannon’s blood smeared against the lower half of her face mocks him and rage roars through his brain as he lifts the stake and makes ready. Once more he feels hands grab him and he is hauled away from her and held steady for a moment. He lets out a great roar of fury at being thwarted. Harper then appears in front of him, holding him by his upper arms and there’s an urgent expression on his face as he stares at him. It becomes guarded as he slowly lets go of his arms.

“No Mitchell…” he instructs, placing a hand in the centre of his chest. Mitchell looks down at it and then back at him.

“Get _out_ of my way” he snarls at him and Harper just shakes his head.

“No…”

“I mean it…get the fuck away from her…”His voice drops and the threat is clear.

“I can’t.”

“She… killed Shannon… _fed_ from her…”

“I know but think about it John…”

Mitchell takes a half step back. “What? _Why_? Why should I think about it when Shannon is lying there _dead?_ ” he retaliates hotly, flinging an arm out in her direction, his breath heaving in his lungs.

“How does it feel John?” Eleanor enquires and he turns his head and he looks at her. Slowly she walks towards him.

“It hurts doesn’t it? Hurts like the very devil.” There is a chilly little smile playing around the corner of her lips. “To…lose someone that you care about, how does it feel _exactly?_ ” He hears the triumphant tone in her voice and he stares at her in astonishment.

“This was about _Lily_?” he asks stupidly and then briefly closes his eyes. Of course it was, the moment he saw her standing there he should’ve realised. For Christ’s sake how many times has it been pointed out to him already?

“Who else could it be about?” she answers calmly. Mitchell looks back at Harper. There’s no expression there, no help, nothing.

He looks back at her.  “This is all about revenge? You think that I didn’t care about Lily? If I hadn’t cared about her then I wouldn’t have killed her but she made a fool out of me and she paid the price. I apologised to you even though I didn’t have to and that should’ve been the end of it.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make Mitchell, you do not get to decide whether I should forgive or forget!” she hisses back.

Mitchell’s eyes widen slightly. “I didn’t expect you to do either, I just wanted to wipe the slate clean and then be left alone by everyone but here I am, dragged back into the middle of things. Shannon didn’t harm a soul in her life and this is what you do to her?” He shakes his head. He takes another step back. He drops the stake and it clatters to the floor. He looks at Harper once more. His eyes shine forlornly. “I just wanted to be left alone,” he repeats. He turns.

“Mitchell,” Harper calls out and he freezes. Slowly he turns back around and he looks at him. He’s holding something out in his hand.

“Take Shannon back to my place, take my car.” Mitchell stares at him.

“Please. They won’t stop you.” Mitchell’s eyes flick over Wyndam and Eleanor and then back to Wyndam. He’s standing beside Jessie now, watching carefully with his arm across her shoulders. The moment stretches out and Mitchell sighs and takes the keys from him. He shoves them into his jacket pocket and he walks back to Shannon.

He gently lifts her up into his arms and he feels her head loll against his shoulder as he adjusts her weight. She still feels warm. He can smell the scent of her, her body, her perfume and his throat tightens at the memory.

“She was pathetically easy to capture and do you know what got her out of her flat? You Mitchell, she had _feelings_ for you, can you imagine that? I just had to mention your name and that I would hurt you and she came with us quite willingly. I will say one thing about her, once she realised that she’d been lied to then she fought bravely, valiantly almost. I don’t know why they do that,” Eleanor taunts. Mitchell pauses and he turns his head and he regards her.  He takes a breath and seems to ponder what to say next. He frowns and Harper knows that he’s struggling against what he really wants to do to her.

“No, you wouldn’t would you? It’s called humanity Eleanor, something you plainly know nothing about,” he eventually replies. He walks to the doorway and pauses again at the two black suited vampires who have materialised at the entrance. He just stares at them.

“Let him go,” Wyndam instructs and they melt away.

Mitchell leaves.

* * *

 

Harper turns to look at Eleanor.

“You just can’t help yourself can you? You just need to push him that little bit more.” His voice drips with disgust and he turns. He stiffens when he sees Wyndam’s arm across Jessie’s shoulders. Jessie has her hands over her face as if unable to look at him. He watches how he almost tenderly draws her into his arms.

“Sshh…there there,” he murmurs and his eyes never leave Harper’s. “You’re a vampire my dear, it’s instinctive to want to feed, almost impossible to refuse.”

“But Mitchell hates me,” Jessie’s voice is muffled by his jacket lapel. His hand strokes her back in slow rhythmic strokes.

“Mitchell is of no consequence Jessie. Don’t ever blame yourself for what you are, you should be proud.” He draws her away from him and he smiles into her eyes with a benevolence that makes Harper’s skin crawl. He takes a breath.

“Jessie…look at me. Please?” Harper keeps his voice gentle and he waits. It takes a moment but eventually she turns her head and she chances a timid peek in his direction. He makes himself smile.

“It’s okay Jessie…we can work through this. Why don’t you go upstairs and get your things and we can go back home, talk?” he suggests, keeping his tone gentle and non-threatening. He briefly thinks of Mitchell, it’s far too soon to consider anything from him but given enough time who knows what will happen? Both of them are important and he can’t, does not want to lose them both.

“She already _is_ home,” Eleanor reminds him archly and Harper glances at her.

“Oh yes, I forgot about your mummy dearest act, still spinning that out are you? She wants to spread her wings Eleanor, you suffocate her.” He doesn’t lift his voice.

“I’m her sire, she’s mine.”

“She’s not a possession for God’s sake, you don’t own her.” He turns his attention back to Wyndam. “She must be allowed to choose.” His voice trembles slightly as he stares at him. It’s been five hundred years since they were last in the same room together and to some that may seem like such a long time ago but to Harper it still feels like it was yesterday. It’s the same face, the same light shining behind those unholy blue eyes of his but contained within a more up to date shell. Underneath it all he’s still the same Edgar Wyndam. A slight smile tilts the corner of that cruel thin lipped mouth as Wyndam slowly nods.

“Here we are again brother, fighting over a woman. It never changes does it?” He glances at Jessie who stands trembling beside him.

“You are not my brother and she isn’t your woman,” Harper replies quietly and Wyndam cocks an eyebrow.

“Oh really…she’s not?  She’s such a promising young lady with a really bright future ahead of her, which begs me to ask, what can you _possibly_ hope to offer her?” His voice drips with scorn.

“My heart, something you never can,” Harper answers and Wyndam’s eyes widen ever so slightly with amusement.

“It’s been five hundred _years_ so how could you possibly know that? Love is a joke played upon the human race Jude… why haven’t you realised that yet? It makes men _weak_.”

“Or it makes men strong; it depends on how you look at it.”

Wyndam sighs loudly, almost dramatically. “How can an emotion that can emasculate and destroy give a man _strength_? I’ve never heard such rubbish in my life!”

“So _she_ was she just another whore to you…” The jab hits its mark and Wyndam stiffens slightly and his eyes slowly narrow.

_He’s remembering, he knows exactly who I’m talking about._ Harper watches him. “Ah, maybe she was…you killed her after all…because she was unfaithful to you I seem to remember, it was over six hundred years ago so you’d have to refresh my memory on that one Edgar.” Harper smiles very faintly. Wyndam looks at Jessie.

“Do you love _him_?” His voice is hard with impatience and after a brief pause, Jessie nods. Wyndam looks at Harper.

“Enough to want to leave everything you have here…the comforts, the freedom and luxury...all of it…for Jude Harper?” He watches how she looks at him, at the expression in her eyes and she nods once more. Wyndam rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” he mutters and then he whips out something from his jacket pocket. Harper lunges forwards when he realises what it is.

“No!” he exclaims but he’s too late and Wyndam rams the stake into Jessie’s breastbone. She gives a loud gasp of shock and Eleanor starts violently. Harper dives forward and he catches Jessie as she sinks to her knees. He falls with her, his arms going around her rapidly degrading body and he can smell violets once more. Her eyes are large, shocked and so very blue as gradually she fades away into the ether. Stunned Harper remains kneeling as a knot forms in his breast.

“Love is for the _weak_ Jude,” Wyndam hisses. Harper lifts his hands to briefly cover his face. Not again, he can not go through this again. Pain swells inside of him coupled with something else. A need for vengeance. He drops his hands.

The next time Harper lifts his head, his eyes are glossy black.

Wyndam grins.

“I _knew_ you were in there somewhere,” he murmurs.

* * *

 

Once he’s clear of the building Mitchell allows the feelings that’s he’s brutally shoved down to begin to emerge. His vision blurs as he walks steadily towards Harper’s car and he takes a breath but instead inhales on a sob. His throat burns but he can’t force it back in again. The feelings of responsibility are overwhelming. She is dead because of him, because of what he is and because of a past that has nothing to do with her.

Responsibility and guilt crush him in equal measures.

He pauses and looks up and down the street but it’s deserted. He sighs and goes to the car.

The doors are unlocked; it would seem that Harper forgot to lock them before their panicked departure earlier. He manages to open the rear passenger door and he carefully lays her along the back seat. He climbs in after her and closes the door. For a moment he just looks at her and he feels fresh regret stir.

He crouches at her feet in the back and he reaches for her hand.

“I’m sorry Shannon,” he whispers and he lifts it to his lips where he presses a single kiss. With his other hand he wipes at his face. He feels her fingers twitch around his and it makes him still.

“Shannon?” he murmurs and he climbs over her and looks down at her face. She’s still so pale and silent. He touches her face and gently pats her cheek.

“Shannon?” he repeats. He’s greeted by silence. He draws back and stares at her face for a second before lowering his head and pressing an ear against her breastbone. He closes his eyes, concentrates and listens.

He can’t hear anything to begin with. He frowns but then he hears it, it’s the faintest of pulsations but it’s a heartbeat. His eyes pop open and his head comes back up. Once more he looks at her.

“Shannon…sweetheart?” Hope flares inside of him. She isn’t moving but that _was_ a heartbeat that he’d heard. He turns his head back to the house as his brain fills with ideas and possible solutions. What the hell does he do now? He hears the quietest of moans, an expulsion of air almost and his head snaps back around to look at her. He looks down at her and he takes a breath. He shrugs off his jacket and tosses it on the front passenger seat and he rolls back the sleeve of his shirt. His hands are shaking, he can feel sweat bead on his forehead.

“Please forgive me,” he whispers as he looks down at his exposed arm. He turns it palm upwards and at the same time his eyes flood black.  He feels his fangs erupt and he sinks them into his wrist. The sharp pain is blurred by the flood of adrenaline and pure fear rushing through him. He’s breathing rapidly as he offers his bloody wrist to her lips.

* * *

 

Slowly Harper rises to his feet. He feels pain pure and sharp battle with self righteous anger and the expression on Wyndam’s face fuels the flames. He strikes out, a swift right hook that catches Wyndam’s mouth and sends him staggering a few steps backwards. He doesn’t fall but as he turns back, his hand comes up to touch his lip. He turns his head and he looks back at him and he grins in delight, showing off blood stained teeth.

“Careful Jude, you need to watch your hands, wouldn’t do to break a bone now would it?” he taunts.

Harper charges at him and he wraps both hands around Wyndam’s throat and pushes him backwards. His back makes contact with the mantelpiece with a heavy thud, causing the ornaments gracing it to shudder and topple.

“ _Why_?” Harper hisses at him. Wyndam regards him and his eyes glitter. He shrugs.

“Why Jude, why _not_?” he retorts and then he grins again. “And because I can,” he adds.

“She meant everything to me…she was no one to you…” He’s finding it hard to breathe, to hold onto control.

“You should’ve seen yourself…fawning over her like a love sick suitor…you needed to be brought to your senses. Did you really think she would give everything up for you and your pathetic cause? Face up to reality man! She would have lasted for a few months and then slipped back and there’s only so much forgiveness you can offer someone. I saved you an eternity of heartache.” Wyndam chuckles as he feels Harper’s grip tighten.

“You don’t know that, you have no way of knowing that,” he argues and Wyndam laugh becomes louder.

“I know enough of human nature Jude, I know enough of vampire nature, and it’s inevitable.” He reaches for Harper’s wrists and he pulls his hands free of him and he watches how his eyes widen at his superior strength. His expression becomes furious and desperate.

“You do not speak for me,” Harper’s voice turns ice cold. Wyndam straightens up and he faces him head on. He still holds onto his wrists and he twists them and watches him grimace in pain. It makes him fall to his knees.

“Have you listened to yourself and your brand of complete and utter bullshit? Do you truly believe that you can do this?”

“I’ve been forsaken for five hundred years,” Harper grinds out. Wyndam slowly shakes his head.

“And I can imagine that you feel every single second of it. Look at you, pathetic and pious. Why when you can revel in what you are, once upon a time you did, you had quite the reputation and you threw it all away. You could’ve been by my side, you and John Mitchell both.”

“This is what all of this has been about, why you’re back in Bristol?” Harper exclaims, his eyes watering in pain.

“I heard you were in the area and of course Mitchell hasn’t long returned from Vienna and we both know what that meant. I know what you were up to, what you wanted,” Wyndam drawls. He wags a chiding finger at him as he releases his grip on him and he watches him as Harper flexes his hands and looks up at him.

“What is it about him? Why the order of protection?”

“Do you remember after I ended Matthew? Do you remember what I offered you? The moment I saw Mitchell I saw that same light inside of him Jude, the chance to be my right hand man. I thought that he would be the one who would instil fear into the pious, into abominations like you. I thought that he would be the one to dance on their bones and glory in their blood. The first time I saw him with Lily I _saw_ the potential.” He smiles and pushes his hands into his trouser pockets and he rocks briefly back on his heels.

“It was glorious.”

He smiles reminiscently but it lasts barely a second before the mask is in place again.

“That could’ve been you, it’s what I’d had planned but then you decided to follow in Matthew’s _idiotic_ path and now look at you…foolish and weakened by your devoutness, by your mission statement. How very new age of you,” he sneers.

“You’ll never understand.”

“And why would I even want to? I’m literally on top of the world.”

“And I can bring you down again,” Harper’s voice is filled with conviction. He watches a slow smile creep across Wyndam’s face.

“Would you like to try?” And just like that he’s in Harper’s personal space again and his hand is around his throat. He drags him to his feet and he pushes his face into his.

“It would give me such… _satisfaction_ to end you here and now and watch your ashes mix in with that of your little girlfriend but I suppose that is what you want isn’t it? To join her in whatever version of hell she’s floating around in?” He pushes him away from him and Harper staggers back and hits the floor and he sprawls untidily on the rug.

* * *

 

He turns his head and looks at Eleanor who is regarding Wyndam silently. Slowly she turns her head and she looks back at him. Her eyes are glittering with unshed tears and Harper feels his stomach dip. He recognises the ferocity in her eyes, the intent. He starts to get to his feet. Wyndam in the meantime is watching her, a superior smile tilting the corner of his mouth.

“Eleanor…I really wouldn’t,” he quietly chides. There is no fear in his words.

“You took her from me,” she whispers, the words trembling with barely concealed rage and grief.  Wyndam shrugs nonchalantly.

“Vampire politics my dear, they’re a bitch but we must abide by them whether we like them or not,” he replies flippantly.

Harper slowly straightens and he sees the fire flare in her eyes as she starts forwards.

“No!” he exclaims and he rushes towards her. She lets out a scream of rage as she charges at Wyndam. He takes a step backwards but there is no emotion, no expression of alarm in his eyes at what she intends to do.

Harper catches her and forces her backwards, harmlessly away from Wyndam and her back makes contact with the wall beside the fireplace.

“He’s mine do you understand? Mine!” Harper hisses at her and her eyes are wide as she stares at him in stunned disbelief. Harper looks down between their bodies. The stake he’d reached for as he’d fallen is now embedded in her heart. Shock shudders through him but he gulps in a strengthening breath and forces it down.

“Mine,” he whispers again and he takes a step backwards as she fades and crumbles.

Wyndam turns his head and looks dispassionately at the second pile of clothing at his feet. He looks at Harper and chuckles.

“All in all it hasn’t been a very successful evening for the Eleanor has it?” He glances up at Harper and he grins. “Thank you. I could’ve taken care of it myself but etiquette dictates that I must thank you, so thank you brother.”

Harper straightens.

“For the last time, I am not your brother,” he informs him “And I meant what I said to her, you’re mine.” He advances towards him.

* * *

 

He lies in the middle of the wreckage of the room. Pain bounces around the inside of his skull and he can taste blood. He opens his eyes and sees him standing over him. He drops the stake onto his chest and he winces at the heavy contact.

“You couldn’t beat me then Jude and you can’t beat me now.”

“So kill me and be done with it,” Harper gasps. Wyndam grins at him.

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you and martyr yourself like Matthew? No thank you, one of those is quite enough. I like playing with you far too much and you can be a lot of fun when you allow yourself to be. One tip though…blood and plenty of it…might toughen you up a little bit.” He flashes another smile at him and he walks away.

Harper rolls onto his side and watches Wyndam leave the trashed living room looking to all and sundry as though he was leaving an exclusive cocktail party. He winces at the pain burning along his ribs and his eyes slide closed for a moment. He rolls onto his back once more and he looks up at the ornate ceiling. Tears flood his eyes and overflow and he allows himself a moment to grieve for Jessie before he slowly sits up, his arm cradling his chest. He doesn’t think he has any broken bones but if he does then they’ll heal quickly. He’s always said that he isn’t much of a fighter and Wyndam pretty much swept the floor with him without breaking into much of a sweat. He slowly gets to his feet and he sways dizzily for a moment and as he looks up, he sees the portrait above the fireplace.

Lily Vale. Oh how she sits there, like a regent, the haughty expression on her face that enslaved men and vampires for decades.

_“Why won’t you let me see it Mr Harper?” Her voice is pleading and he glances at her as he draws the cloth over the canvas. Sunlight floods through the living room that is redolent with the odour of paint and linseed oil._

_“Because it isn’t finished just yet, I don’t allow anyone to see my unfinished work,” he replies and he has the satisfaction of seeing her pout._

_“I’m sure you could make an exception for Lily Mr Harper,” Eleanor intervenes from across the room, where she has sat with a book since this session had begun._

_“I’m sorry Mrs Brennan but I simply can not. I hope you will understand and be patient,” he replies politely. He watches how the younger vampire sighs dramatically, her shoulders slumping almost theatrically._

_“Lily, don’t slouch my darling and sit back down. For Mr Harper to finish his work of art, he needs to be able to paint you in your chair, that’s the whole idea. He’s the absolute best in his field and worth waiting for,” Eleanor reminds her. Lily looks directly at Jude and she rolls her eyes. He bites back a smile and watches how she does as she’s told._

_The grand unveiling and he remembers the sparkle in her eyes as he slowly revealed the painting to her. He stood beside it and watched both of them regard it. He remembers the slow smile of satisfaction that bloomed in Lily’s eyes and the look of pure delight that followed._

_“Oh Mr Harper…you’ve simply outdone yourself,” Eleanor breathes in awe. Lily grins and her smile is literally breath stealing in its beauty. She jigs a little on the spot and claps her elegant white hands in delight._

_“You’ve made me look quite beautiful Mr Harper…how could anyone fail to notice me now?”_

Rage bubbles fiercely through him and he goes to it, rips it off the wall and he destroys it in a maelstrom of anguish and sorrow. So much loss and destruction, lives shattered and hope gone. It all washes over him, the futility of it all and soon the canvas and the frame are scattered from one end of the living room to the other in tattered broken pieces. It leaves him panting, heartbroken, destroyed and furious. He hurts; he’s forgotten that such absolute pain exists. He doesn’t want to feel anymore. He doesn’t want to _be_ anymore. Nothing matters. Exhaustion claims him, leeching what little strength is left within him. He sinks to the floor again and lets the defeat overwhelm him.

* * *

 

He emerges into the darkness. The house is empty now and will remain so until Wyndam decides what to do with it, who to award it to. He stands on the doorstep and looks up at the clear navy blue sky. He sees the diamond sparkle of stars scattered across and he frowns. He feels hollow, there’s a persistent, _grinding_ pain in his solar plexus that he’s choosing to ignore. Mitchell will need him and he can’t afford to be weak. He pushes his hands into his pocket and moves off the doorstep and heads for the gate. Once on the street he looks up and down and pauses when he sees his car still parked where he’d left it.  He frowns again and after another moment, he slowly walks towards it.

He sees Mitchell in the back seat. Shannon is slumped against him with a blanket wrapped around her and he’s holding her in his arms. It’s the blanket from the boot of the car he realises and all of a sudden he’s confused. He opens the driver’s door and sticks his head in.

“I thought I told you…”

“Shannon’s alive,” Mitchell interrupts and Harper’s eyes widen in shock.

“What?” he exclaims.

“There was a faint heartbeat. I put her in the car like you told me to and her fingers twitched…”

“ _Was_?” Harper watches how Mitchell looks away to stare out of the window for a moment and he pulls his fingers through untidy hair. He then sighs loudly as realisation dawns.

“You recruited her.” Mitchell’s expression is fierce when he looks back at him.

“I had no choice…”

“Yes you did Mitchell, there is _always_ a choice!” Harper retaliates.

“She was going to… _die_.”

“And now thanks to you she never will. You had no _right_ Mitchell, no right at all!” he scolds.

Mitchell falls silent. Harper gets into the driver’s seat and for a moment stares straight ahead.

“Shit!” he exclaims, hitting the driving wheel with both hands.  His frown is dark. He then turns in his seat and he glares at him.

“You’d better hope she’s more understanding when she wakes up. You recruited her, she’s your responsibility!”

“I know and I accept that…” Harper closes his eyes for a moment.

“Can you? You can barely take care of yourself Mitchell,” he sighs and he shakes his head again.

“Keys?”

“Jacket pocket.” Mitchell indicates the jacket in the front passenger seat. Harper curses under his breath once more and retrieves them.

He starts the car and it roars into life.

  
He doesn’t speak as they return to the Vicarage. Mitchell watches him as he holds Shannon beside him. He doesn’t ask him how he got those bruises on his face. He doesn’t ask him where Jessie is. He tightens his hold on Shannon instead.

 


	22. Chapter Twenty Two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing will ever be the same again....

**Chapter Twenty Two:**

She comes to on a gasp.

Mitchell’s eyes pop open as he lurches forward in his chair in a single fluid movement. He sees her eyes flash that brief solid black as she pitches upright. By the time they find his then they’re that familiar golden brown hue that he remembers.

He goes towards her, sitting on the side of the bed as her hand comes up to touch the side of her neck. He sees the confusion on her face as she pulls her hand away and sees that nothing is there. She looks into his eyes and he sees the fear blossom. He reaches for her. She cowers back up against the headboard and stares at him with fearful eyes.

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” he murmurs as her face crumples in distress.  He pauses, unsure of how to react.

“Oh God…I saw her…Mitchell I saw her…that girl from the hospital, the one who attacked me. She bit me…it _hurt_ …” Her words tumble over each other. Mitchell moves closer to her. He can hear her rapid breathing.

“Hush now…it’s okay, she won’t hurt you again…I promise,” he whispers and he draws her into his arms. He feels the weight of her head on his shoulder for just a moment before it’s gone. Then she stiffens and pushes him away from her.

“Mitchell.” He looks at her and sees how she’s taking in her surroundings. Her eyes dart around the room, at the pale pink walls and the white furniture. A frown forms and she looks back at him in confusion. “Where am I?” she asks him.

“You’re safe, that’s all you need to worry about now. This is my friend’s house.”

“How did I get here?”

“We brought you here.”

“ _We_?” Her voice rises in alarm. Mitchell takes her hands and holds onto them.

“Harper and me, this is his house.”

“A woman came to my flat, said her car had broken down and asked to use my phone. She…her eyes went black, just for a moment, she wanted me to see what she was.” She frowns. “I wouldn’t go with her and she said if I didn’t then she’d hurt you…but she was lying because you weren’t even there, at her house. They were all _vampires_ …” Her voice trails off in disbelief and he sees the shock lingering in her eyes. She returns her attention to him and it’s as if she remembers that intense conversation they’d had and she wrenches her hands out of his.

“I have to go…I need to leave…” She begins to kick the blankets back.  She gets out of bed and her legs buckle and she staggers. Mitchell gets to his feet and skirts around the bed to stand in front of her.

“And go where?”

“Home, where else…what time is it? Everything is such a blur…” She frowns. “And I’m freezing…why am I cold?” She spins around as the bedroom door opens. Her eyes go wide when she sees a second man come through the door.

“I thought I heard movement. Everything okay here?” Harper pauses as Shannon staggers back a couple of steps.

“I know you…from the hospital…”

Harper watches her. “Yes, that was me.” he confirms and Shannon turns to look at Mitchell with horror-struck eyes.

“What’s going on… _this_ is your friend?”

“My name is Jude Harper Miss Parker, I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself to you earlier at the hospital. How are you feeling?” He chances a glance at Mitchell who subtly shakes his head before he returns his attention to Shannon and he slowly approaches her. “Mitchell is correct, this is my house and you’re welcome to stay for as long as you like.” He places his hands on her shoulders.

“I need to go home, I need to leave…”

“I’m sure you do my dear but for now that’s not possible.” He keeps his voice low and soothing. He leads her back to the bed and makes sure that she sits down.  He crouches down in front of her.

“Do you remember what happened at the house?” he enquires.

She frowns. “Some of it…”

“You were bitten…by a vampire.” He feels how she tenses in fear. He reaches for her and he copies Mitchell by taking her hands.

“She almost killed you.” He glances back at Mitchell. She turns her head and looks at him also

“But she didn’t…I’m here talking to you,” she tells him and Mitchell quietly sighs. He sits down on the bed beside her.

“You were close to death…I had to save your life so I fed you some of…my… blood,” he slowly explains and Shannon returns her attention to him and Mitchell watches as she frowns as she struggles to make sense of his words.

“But you’re a…vampire…” she breathes. She watches how he looks at Harper who is observing them silently.

“Yeah, I am.”

“You fed me some of your blood so I wouldn’t die?”

Mitchell just nods.

“So I’m like you now? I’m a vampire?”

He nods once more. “Yeah,” he whispers.

Absolute silence reigns. She turns her head back in Harper’s direction. She can’t speak as she struggles to assimilate the information she’s been given. She pulls her hands free of his.

“Why?” she whispers eventually and once more she looks at Mitchell.

“You were going to die Shannon,” he confesses.

“Then why didn’t you let me?” she demands, her voice growing stronger and her eyes shine brightly in horror. Tears fill her eyes and spill over. Mitchell’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open.

“Because I didn’t want you to. You didn’t deserve what happened to you and that was my fault.”

“And I don’t deserve what you’ve done to me! You’ve made me into _you_.” Her voice trembles. Mitchell moves closer to her.

“I can help you, take care of you and teach you…”

“Teach me what Mitchell, how to become a monster? You make it sound oh so _wonderful_!” she exclaims and fresh tears slip down her pale cheeks.

“It could be…we’d be together…”

“As _this_? I’m _dead_ Mitchell or have you forgotten?” she retorts angrily.

“No, it’s something that you never forget, when you survive like this for as long as I have, believe me you never forget,” he answers quietly. He reaches for her, takes one of her hands and holds it between his own. Immediately she yanks it away as if burned.

“You should’ve let me _die_ Mitchell…you had no right!” she cries and she gets to her feet. She skirts around Harper and runs out of the room. Mitchell jumps to his feet and goes to follow. Harper straightens and puts his hand on his shoulder and shakes his head.

“Let her go, the house is locked up so she can’t go anywhere or do anything. Leave her be,” he advises quietly. Mitchell sighs.

“I completely fucked it up didn’t I?” he mutters, pulling his fingers through his hair.

 Harper slowly shrugs. “I understand the why part…you have a bond with her, it’s normal when you’re newly sober, you glom onto someone _normal_ , someone sweet and you’ll do anything to keep them with you,” he replies and Mitchell looks at him and he frowns.

“Did you?”

Harper just nods. “A few lifetimes ago but yes I did, I’ll tell you about her one day.” He pats his shoulder. “You should try and get some rest; I’ll keep an eye on Shannon.” Mitchell sighs tiredly.

“I should’ve just let her die,” he murmurs under his breath with a shake of his head. Harper regards him sympathetically.

“I can’t judge you; you made a decision in the heat of the moment, in the same situation I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same. Shannon will come around to it in time, you can’t expect her to be okay with it immediately.”

“Get some sleep, I’ll come get you if I need you.” He walks away and Mitchell watches him and it then occurs to him that he didn’t ask about Jessie.

* * *

 

The door won’t budge. She tugs at it but it stays locked and she turns and frowns. She needs keys. She needs to get out of here. This feels like some awful bad dream and she really wants to wake up about now but nothing has felt right since Abby’s death and Mitchell’s confession. It feels as though she hasn’t had time to absorb anything. Everything is spinning crazily at a million miles an hour and she wants it to just _stop_.

“There you are.”

Shannon stiffens when she hears his voice and she presses her back up against the front door. She watches how he pauses.

“While I’m not one to kidnap newly made vampires I don’t think it’s a very good idea for you to leave us just now.”

“I can’t stay here…I have to leave…there are things I need to do, places I need to be.”

 Slowly Harper approaches her.

“The last few days have been extremely traumatic, am I right?” He watches as she nods. “Please believe me when I say that you will be safe here and that you need these days to settle and come to terms with everything. You need to adjust.” He takes another couple of steps towards her. She stares up at him with wide golden brown eyes.

“Why can’t I adjust in my own home?”

“I’m not saying you can’t go back to your home ever Shannon, just not right now. You need to be with people who understand what you’re going through.”

“Other vampires you mean?” Harper nods. “So you’re a vampire too? Of course you are.”

“I am,” he confirms and he takes a deep breath. He holds out a hand. “We can talk if you like, you’ll have a lot of questions, I know that I did.” He waits for her to move. She doesn’t and he lowers his hand. “Or we could just stay here instead.” His accompanying smile is brief but kind.

“Where’s Mitchell?”

“If he has any sense he’ll be sleeping but more than likely he’ll be pacing his room and questioning whether he did the right thing in recruiting you.”

“Recruiting, you make it sound like I had a choice in the matter.”

“You’re right, it’s a bit of a misnomer isn’t it? I didn’t get a choice and I don’t think Mitchell did either; you’d have to ask him yourself. He thought with his heart and not with his head but I’ve lived for almost six hundred and fifty years and seen and experienced things you could not believe. My sire had my best interests at heart, I was dying from the plague when he did what he did and it saved me. You were dying from trauma and massive blood loss when Mitchell saved you.”

“Did he save me?”

“Well the alternative was to let you die. He cares deeply about you Shannon and the selfish part of him wasn’t ready to let you go, despite what you discovered about him earlier.”  He watches her carefully, she’s trembling and she wraps her arms tightly around herself. “Come along, it’s cold and you’re shivering. I could make us some tea if you like?” he suggests. She regards him with distrustful eyes but he can see that she’s beginning to waver. He holds out his hand once again.

“I promise you Shannon, you’re perfectly safe here,” he repeats. She takes a slow, hesitant step towards him.

“That’s it,” he murmurs as she slowly comes closer to him. They head back further into the house.

* * *

 

He leads her into the living room and guides her to the sofa. Slowly she lowers herself onto it as her eyes take in her surroundings. He doesn’t blame her for how she feels. The first few weeks as a new vampire are a mess of confusion and emotion. It’s not a pleasant state of mind to be in. If she survives these early months then there is hope for her. She will need all the help she can get. He sits down on a nearby armchair and watches her carefully. She’s so drastically pale with dark smudges beneath her eyes. Her hands tremble, he watches how she winds her fingers tightly together to try and stop it.

“You’re not comfortable here and that’s perfectly okay,” Harper begins and her eyes dart towards him and away again.

“That itch you’re feeling…under your skin? That’s a blood craving, you don’t know why you have it because you haven’t fed but it’s there and it will always be there unless you choose to do something about it,” he informs her and this gets her attention. “Feeding will take it away but only for a little while. It doesn’t last and pretty soon that itch will be back but stronger. You can continue to indulge in it or you’ll find a way to manage it.”

“Feeding?” Harper inclines his head just the once.

“Fresh human blood. That blackness you saw in Mitchell’s eyes? That’s bloodlust. Mitchell is newly sober so he’s still having trouble controlling it. Most vampires choose not to and it’s what makes us dangerous,” he inclines his head “amongst other things.” He sighs raggedly and leans back in his chair.

“It should be Mitchell here talking to you about this but right now he’s beating himself up about recruiting you and I’ve been here a bit longer so it’ll be down to me for a while but for now why don’t you go back to your room and rest for a little bit? Things will become clearer over time I promise you.” He leans forward again. “Why don’t you try to sleep?” he suggests. He slowly rises out of his seat and watches how she follows suit. She doesn’t flinch away from him as he places a gentle hand between her shoulder blades and together they leave the room.

* * *

 

It’s the darkest part of the night. He stands beside the window and he looks down at the garden below. He rubs at his chest and wishes he could soothe the ache that seems to have taken up permanent residence there. He turns and looks at his bed. He frowns. He’s just returned from checking on his two charges. Exhaustion has made them heavier sleepers. Mitchell is an unmoving lump in the centre of his bed but Shannon’s slumber is lighter and more restless. He made sure he wasn’t heard, centuries of practice makes that possible for him. He lifts his hands and rubs at his face and he wishes that he could close his eyes and do the same but he can’t. Not yet.

* * *

 

Sunlight streams brutally through the window and it teases her out of sleep. For a moment she stares up at the ceiling and in that moment nothing has changed, nothing has happened, she is still herself. The moment afterwards and that’s when she’s reminded of the last three days. Has it really only been that long? Fear crashes through her and she sits up. Her eyes take in the cool pale pink decor of her room. She hears nothing except the cheerful trill of birdsong outside of her bedroom window.

She gets out of bed and pauses. She feels a little bit more in control now and she allows herself to relax as she feels the fear begin to abate a little.

The house is silent as she makes her way down the stairs. It’s a big house with a lot of rooms but gradually she finds her way to a large kitchen. There are fitted units in place which aren’t up to the minute modern but clean and in good order. There’s a doorway out that leads to what looks like an enormous old fashioned conservatory. She sees tall pot plants as well as things covered with large white cloths. She frowns slightly and briefly wonders what is in there before turning. She pulls up short when she sees Mitchell sitting at the kitchen table.

He lifts his head and he looks at her. Slowly he gets to his feet. She remains rooted to the spot and she just watches him.

“Shannon,” he greets neutrally and he watches her carefully. He then sighs to himself and her eyes widen as she watches him begin to unbutton the shirt that he’s wearing.

“Your top…” She glances down at it and she sees the blood staining the neckline. She feels him drape the shirt he’s taken off around her shoulders. He’s wearing a white t-shirt beneath it.

“You need some clothes,” he tells her and moves away from her. She frowns as she pushes her arms through the holes and rolls back the sleeves. She’s reminded of the last time she wore his shirt and feels her cheeks warm with the memory. That was all she had worn. She steals a glance at him.

“My clothes are in my flat with the rest of my belongings. You could take me back.”

“You know that I can’t.”

She frowns at him. “Why not? The least you could do is take me home Mitchell…”

“Because it’s not a good idea. It’s a confusing time, you’re nowhere near ready to face the outside world just yet, and you need time.”

“To do what? To come to terms with being a predator, a killer, like that girl in the locker room, am I going to be like her Mitchell?” she demands, suddenly overwhelmed with impatience.

“I don’t know Shannon, do you plan to be?” he retorts. She stares at him wide eyed for a moment, her mouth opening and closing. Nothing emerges.

“You should’ve thought of that before you kindly shared some of your blood with me!” she retaliates angrily. Mitchell falls silent.

“I’m sorry Shannon…I thought I was doing the right thing…I _thought_ that I was saving you.” His words are slow and halting but it doesn’t do anything to ease the ache in her chest. “But it’s done now and you have to learn how to live with it.”

“ _Learn_ …are you going to teach me then Mitchell? What _are_ you going to teach me? How to stalk my prey, kill, drain a victim of it's blood?” she sneers. He sighs and frowns at her.

“Okay, I deserved that but like it or not it’s done,” he retorts crossly taking a step towards her. He pauses and briefly closes his eyes and he sighs. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness Shannon but I am hoping that one day you’ll understand…understand why I did it. You can do this, you can come to terms with it.” He watches her eyes widen slightly.

“Oh can I? How good of you to speak for me Mitchell because right now I don’t know how I feel but one thing that I do know for sure right now is that it’s just as well that you haven’t asked for my forgiveness because I’m not sure if I can give it to you. Ever.”  She ignores the pain that flashes quickly across his face before it is masked.

“And that’s your right but there’s stuff that you need to know…to understand,” he instructs her and watches as she folds her arms.

“I think I’d much prefer your friend to teach me.”

He sighs in frustration and pulls his fingers through his hair. “Oh for fuck’s sake Shannon,” he growls and she widens her eyes.

“Oh excuse me, were you expecting me to just roll over and accept this…from _you_? Fuck you Mitchell…just…fuck you!” She spins around and begins to stride out of the kitchen. His eyes widen and he strides off after her. He reaches for her arm.

“And throwing a tantrum is really going to help…I recruited you and it’s up to me to show you the ropes.” He spins her around and he sees the fury that lights up her eyes.

“Get your hands off me!” she yells at him and she wrenches her arm away from him. His eyes go wide.

“Damn you Mitchell…this is all your fault, every single bit of it!” she shouts and she pushes him. He staggers back a step. She pauses for a brief second with such a dark expression on her face. She advances towards him again.

“My life will never be the same again!” She curls her hands into tight fists and beats them hard against his chest. He sways against the assault but doesn’t attempt to block her or to stop her. “I’m a fucking monster…my life is over in every sense of the word and it’s because of you!” She hits him again and her rage increases with each blow. Finally he grabs onto her wrists and holds them tightly. She lifts her head and he sees the tears streaking down her face. He sighs raggedly, distressed and pulls her into his arms. He wraps his arms tightly around her quivering body and for a moment he closes his eyes and swallows against the lump in his throat.

“I’m sorry Shannon. I’m so _so_ sorry,” he whispers.

“I don’t want to be like this Mitchell…I want my old life back, I want Abby back…I just want everything to be like it was before,” she admits, her breath heaving in her lungs, her voice muffled by his t-shirt. She then stiffens and her hands come up and make contact with his chest and she pushes. He lets go of her and takes a step back. He watches as she sends him a dark look and then she spins and hurries out.

It’s then that he allows his feelings to bleed through.

* * *

 

Harper is sitting in the conservatory. He lifts his head when he hears footsteps and watches Mitchell enter. He lowers his head again and stares at nothing in particular.

“I need to borrow your car.”

Harper raises his head again and frowns. “Why?”

“Because mine is still at my flat and I need to do something important,” he answers.

“Such as?”

“Something for Shannon.”

“Ah.” Harper sighs and then scrubs at his face with one long fingered hand.

“My keys are in their usual place, on a hook beside the fridge, help yourself. How is Shannon?”

“She’s in her room and hasn’t emerged; she won’t even look at me never mind talk to me.”

“So you think that by going to get some of her personal belonging that she might thaw towards you?” He watches the uncomfortable expression that crosses his face and sees the shrug.

“It’d be a start. Maybe having something familiar around her might begin to help her get her head together about all of this,” he mutters.

Harper slowly nods. “Makes sense…and I take it I’m babysitting?”

“Do you mind?”

“Do I have a choice? No…I don’t mind. Chances are she’ll talk to me. Go on, go do your thing and we’ll have to arrange to get your car brought here.” He sighs somewhat tiredly. Mitchell pauses and he regards him and he frowns.

“Are you okay…you seem…”

Harper lifts his eyes to Mitchell’s face. “I’m fine Mitchell, perfectly alright. You’d better get going.” His tone turns sharply dismissive and Mitchell’s frown deepens but he leaves anyway.

* * *

 

He parks the car outside of her building and sits for a moment. He then gets out and out of habit he looks up and down the street. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. He exhales quietly and heads into her building.

He climbs the stairs. It’s so quiet. He pauses outside of her door. It’s closed but if it’s locked then it’s game over. He can’t enter without drawing attention to himself and he doesn’t think her neighbours will be the type to ignore a commotion. He reaches for the door handle and he twists it. It opens and after a moment’s brief hesitation he steps across the threshold. He closes the door behind him and he listens to the silence. It feels weird being here without her but she can’t be here just now. She’s still very new and vulnerable and to be exposed to this much humanity all at once without decent preparation would be a very bad idea indeed.

He goes into her bedroom, the bed hasn’t been made, the blankets look kicked and tossed about. He stops for a moment and looks around. He walks to a small stand-alone wardrobe and he opens it. Her clothes are hung up neatly inside and he catches a drift of her scent and as he closes his eyes, he face fills his mind. He can see her smile, hear her laughter and feel her touch. He opens them again and he lifts his head slightly and he spies the two large suitcases on top of the wardrobe. He reaches for them and dumps them onto the bed.

He quickly empties the wardrobe and drawers into them and at the same time he empties his mind of all thought as he fills both of the cases with her clothes, throwing in shoes as well as perfume, make up and the like. He closes the last case and carries them into the living room ready to be taken down to the car. He sees a handful of books but she doesn’t seem to have much in the way of ornaments or personal knick-knacks. Eventually he’s done and everything is ready to go.

“Going somewhere soldier?”

Mitchell’s head snaps up. He’s been so lost in thought that in his mission he didn’t hear the door open. He sees Herrick standing in the doorway.

“What do you want?” he demands. He picks up both cases and tests their weight in his hands.

“You didn’t answer my question. This isn’t your flat.” Herrick watches Mitchell walk towards him and then past him. He takes a step backwards and watches him go down the stairs. A few minutes slip by and he sees him reappear. Mitchell climbs the stairs and then he pauses at the top when he sees Herrick still standing in the doorway.

“Are you going to get out of my way?” he demands in a low voice and wordlessly with a sweep of his hand, Herrick takes a step back. Mitchell’s response is a dark look as he moves past him again and goes back into the flat. Once inside Mitchell pauses and he swings around and looks at him.

“What do you want?”

Herrick pauses at the threshold once more.

“I heard all hell broke loose at a certain address the other night. Quite literally,” he begins. Mitchell stiffens imperceptibly but continues to regard him.

“What _did_ you hear exactly?”

“Eleanor Brennan, Donovan Flynn…need I go on?”

Mitchell frowns and sighs.

“Flynn is dead, ended and as far as Eleanor is concerned, I have no idea,” he mutters as he turns his head, his thoughts once more lost in his task at hand. Out of the corner of his eye he sees how Herrick straightens slightly and then take a precise but deliberate step across the threshold and into the flat. Mitchell turns his head more fully to look at him and Herrick’s eyes widen with delight.

“Well…what do we make of that then?” he breathes. He walks towards Mitchell. “You’re not at your flat, you haven’t been to work and then there was this incident with Flynn and a red haired nurse. That wasn’t your Miss Parker now was it?” He keeps his voice low and silky. Mitchell doesn’t reply but continues to watch him.

“Word gets around Mitchell, you know that the vampire news network is way better than anything CNN can come up with these days.”

Mitchell groans low in his throat. “Which part of none of your business do you not understand Herrick? Go.” He goes to the door and waits expectantly. After a moment Herrick walks towards him and he pauses and looks at him.

“I had a very interesting visitor this morning, told me a very …curious…story. His name is Jimmy Fitzgerald. I expect you know who I’m talking about.” His smile fades away and becomes something cold.  “You know where I am if you need me,” he tells him. Mitchell opens his mouth to speak but then changes his mind. Instead he watches Herrick leave before he closes the door.

 


	23. Chapter Twenty Three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for some truth and honesty....

**Chapter Twenty Three:**

Shannon hears the low growl of a car engine. She gets out of the chair by the bed and goes to the window to investigate. She sees the car stop beneath her window and she frowns mildly when she sees Mitchell emerge from its interior.  He goes to the boot and opens it. It’s then that his friend joins him. She frowns as she struggles to remember his name…Harper, that’s it.

They talk for a moment or two and Shannon’s eyes widen when she recognises the suitcases that Mitchell lifts from the boot and her mouth drops open in shock. They’re hers. Mitchell has been back at her flat? Outrage races through her and she storms out of the room and heads downstairs.

Mitchell is in the process of lowering the suitcase down beside its companion. He lifts his head when he sees her. He straightens warily as she strides towards him.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” she demands crossly.

“I brought you some of your stuff…I thought it would help…”

“You had no _right_!” she hisses at him and he blinks. He opens his mouth and then closes it. A brief moment ticks by before he chooses to speak again.

“I can imagine that it’s not much fun staying in the same clothes day in and day out, now you have your clothes and I sorted out some books and whatnot,” he answers.

“But…”

Mitchell sighs with irritation and pulls his fingers through his hair. He stares at her and frustration comes off him in waves. “I’m not looking for a thank you in all of this; I just thought it would be something…nice for you. I thought it might make you feel better having something familiar with you.”

“Nothing is familiar anymore Mitchell.”

“I know…which is why I thought I’d do what I did,” he answers tiredly. She frowns.

“I don’t know why because I won’t be here for long.” She shoots a poisonous glance Harper’s way and then turns on her heel and stomps away again. Mitchell watches her leave and slowly shakes his head.

“Damned if I do…” he mutters.

“Give her time Mitchell,” Mitchell glances at him and his expression is miserable.

“She hates my guts, absolutely hates my fucking guts.”

“Don’t take it personally. I don’t,” Harper mutters and Mitchell looks at him.

“Well it’s kinda different…you didn’t turn her into a fucking monster.” He watches how Harper turns and walks back into the house, no doubt towards the conservatory and his paintings.

Mitchell carries the suitcases upstairs and he leaves them outside of her bedroom door. He pauses and listens but doesn’t hear anything. He quietly sighs and leaves her be.

* * *

 

It’s late and the house is quiet. It makes Mitchell restless. He wants to be with Shannon and talk to her but he very much doubts that she’ll welcome his company.

He grabs a couple of bottles of beer from the fridge and goes into the conservatory.

Harper has been different since the return from Eleanor’s house. He wonders about Jessie and wonders whether she changed her mind about becoming forsaken, about being with him. Harper hasn’t said another word about her, hasn’t even uttered her name.

He isn’t in the conservatory but Mitchell can smell the combination of paint and white spirits. The doors leading out into the garden are wide open and Mitchell heads towards them. He pauses and his eyes search the garden for him. It’s quiet out here; a cool breeze teases at his skin and rustles through the leaves of the enormous tree. It’s then that he sees him sitting beneath it, his back pressed up against the trunk, his knees pulled up beneath his chin, his arms wrapped around them to keep them secure. His head is bent and Mitchell frowns as he watches him. He takes a breath and heads towards him.

Harper hears footsteps and his head snaps up and turns towards them. Just as quickly his head lowers again. Mitchell pretends not to notice how he rubs his cheek against his knees. He lowers himself down onto the grass beside him and sits shoulder to shoulder up against the tree trunk. Wordlessly he hands a beer bottle to him. He hears his whispered thanks before he takes a mouthful of his own beer. He leans his head back slightly. He can see brief patches of the navy blue night sky through the branches, revealed to him as the breeze teases at the leaves. He closes his eyes for a moment, opens them and turns his head towards Harper who is staring contemplatively at his own beer bottle.

“You can tell me to fuck off if you like but what happened to Jessie?” He keeps his voice low. Slowly Harper turns his head towards him. A moment stretches out between them.

“Fuck off Mitchell,” Harper replies. The response surprises Mitchell slightly and Harper looks away. “Why do you care anyway, she fed from Shannon and all but killed her. Isn’t she the root of all your troubles now?” Harper continues and Mitchell hears the bitterness lacing every word. He takes another mouthful of beer and slowly swallows.

“She did but the rest of it is on me ...completely on me.”

“If I’d brought her back with me then you would’ve left…and now that Shannon is one of us, I couldn’t see her accepting the situation either but it’s all moot. Jessie is…gone.”

“Gone…where…did she stay with Eleanor and Wyndam?” He looks back at Harper to see him vehemently shake his head.

“No…she’s _gone_ , Wyndam ended her. She wanted…she chose me Mitchell and _he_ didn’t like that, he ended her right in front of me because he could and because he knew that I wouldn’t…no I _couldn’t_ stop him,” Harper responds, his voice tight with sudden compressed rage. Mitchell’s eyes widen.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not strong enough.”

“Bullshit, yes you are. You dragged me out of that bar…”

“You were pissed out of your head and could barely stand upright so no disrespect intended John but anyone could’ve sorted you out then, it was all down to confidence.”

Mitchell’s mouth drops open. “I don’t believe you. Jesus Harper you’re not anything like that. You’re not _weak_!” he exclaims.

“I don’t feed Mitchell…I choose not to and by that definition according to Edgar it makes me weak, that and love of course,” he sneers.

Mitchell heaves out a sigh. Then he shakes his head. “You know what? I think it’s easier for them to believe that but in truth when you’re off the blood you begin to remember what you did. You remember everything, to who and why and they’re usually for the most pathetic of reasons at the time, hunger, need, boredom, whatever. It takes more courage and strength to stay _off_ the blood because being sober means that you still remember. You remember their names and their faces and you remember what they said to you, whether they begged or pleaded and they echo through your head all day and all night so it’s just easier to feed and to forget. It takes real strength to stay off it _and_ continue to remember and not give in to it. It’s a choice. Those who say otherwise are the cowards.” His voice rings with conviction. He looks back at him. Harper’s head is lowered.

“You sound almost…zealous John.” Harper’s voice is low. He then sighs and his shoulders tremble. “Wyndam killed Jessie…for no other reason than because I wanted her and she wanted me,” he tells him in a low voice.

“And you want revenge.”

Harper lifts his head and Mitchell watches him take another mouthful of his beer. He turns his head slightly.

“Ever since we got back from that house it’s all that I’ve thought about. I have my informants scouring the city for him and the moment they find him then I’m going to him and I will kill him.” There’s a fierce glint in his eye as he shares this with him.

“Jesus… Harper…” Mitchell breathes.

“He says I’m not strong enough to beat him and he’s right… so I have to be…I have to be insurmountable. I want him to see it in my eyes when I kill him…when I put him out of his godforsaken misery.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Mitchell enquires curiously and watches how Harper takes a slow deep breath.

“I need to go back to what I was…five hundred years ago…I need to be like _that_ vampire again.” He sees how Mitchell’s eyes go wide with shock.

“Feed?” His mouth drops open at Harper’s slow nod.

“Christ Harper you _can’t_ , it’s utter insanity!” he hisses back at him. Harper regards him steadily.

“What would you have done if you hadn’t been able to save Shannon, Mitchell? Would you be sitting here trying to talk me down from a rampage? Somehow I doubt it. We’d be sitting here and we’d be plotting where to start and who to target.” He takes another quick swallow of his beer and wipes his mouth with the back of a shaking hand. “I need to do something.”

“You need to get a fucking grip that’s what you need to do. It was barely a week ago that you sat beside me in some shit hole of a vampire bar and talked _me_ down from doing the exact same thing. If you hadn’t shown up when you did then that girl you gave the cash to disappear would’ve been the start of my inevitable downfall. You stopped that.”

“You were drunk…”

“Since when has that been an excuse? You _stopped_ me, kept me level. So we leave here tonight, go into the town centre, get hammered and drain a couple of tarts each, then what?” Mitchell hisses, his eyes sharpening and becoming intense.  “It means that Edgar Wyndam has won. So you find him and drive a stake through his heart what will that mean? Nothing, because he will still have won.”

“But I’ll feel better knowing he’s not in the world.”

“No you won’t. He’ll be gone but you still have to live with yourself. Five hundred years of sobriety, do you know how fucking amazing that sounds? If I can get to a year then that’ll be a cause for celebration. Like you’ve said, I’m weak, you aren’t.”

“I didn’t realise you’d become my own personal cheerleader Mitchell.”

“If you slide off the wagon then where’s the hope for the rest of us? Who’s going to take care of Shannon, be that voice of annoying reason? It won’t be me that’s for sure.”

“Shannon is _your_ responsibility Mitchell.”

“She won’t let me anywhere near her, she hates me.”

“She hates you right now but it won’t last,” he tells him and the look Mitchell sends him is dark with disbelief.

“How much longer? … We’re _vampires_ … a decade or two doesn’t matter to us. I know I made a mistake but Jesus this is a special kind of torture,” he exclaims.

“Then you talk to her again and keep talking to her, you _make_ her understand. She has no choice,” Harper instructs him.

* * *

 

She drags her cases into the room. She won’t consider it her room, she has a perfectly good flat of her own and she intends to return to it the first opportunity that she gets. Harper and Mitchell seem to think that she needs to be here for a little while, to get used to what she is. It won’t hurt to humour them for a little while.

She sighs as she opens the cases and one by one she extracts the clothes that have been dumped inside of them. They aren’t folded or in any kind of order. She imagines that he just emptied her wardrobe and drawers into the cases and that was that. She spends time hanging them up and putting them away. He’s packed cosmetics, bubble bath and even her toothbrush for God’s sake. She pauses at the small photo album that is buried within her pile of underwear and she reaches for it, ignoring the slight tremor in her hand as she does so.

It’s the same size as a paperback book, purple in colour and worn at the edges. She wonders whether Mitchell looked inside of it before putting it in the case. She opens it and she stares at the first photograph. Her own, much younger face stares defiantly back. She’s barely five or six and one of the care workers at the home had taken it. She remembers the warm summery day, sitting in the grass and looking at her as she lifted the camera to take her shot and ignoring her plea for her to smile. She was at that age when she was beginning to realise that she didn’t have a mummy or a daddy like other kids. She would see the mums and dads waiting for their kids after school and it began to dawn on her then that she didn’t have that and nobody would say why. As she got older she told herself that it didn’t matter, she no longer cared and it made her more determined to forge her own way through life. It would’ve been easier to give up and accept her crappy start to life and use it as an excuse but it didn’t. It had the opposite effect and in time it had brought her to Abby. Shannon slaps the album closed and she drops it onto her bed as fresh tears sting the backs of her eyes. Abby…the funeral…her mother will wonder where she is, why she isn’t there. For all she knows, the funeral could be all done and dusted and she wasn’t even there. Panic momentarily fills her and she spins when she hears the gentle tap on her bedroom door. After a moment it slowly opens and she watches Mitchell pop his head around.

“Can I come in?” he asks in a low voice and she stares at him for a moment. Then she nods and watches as the rest of him emerges and it's then she sees that he’s carrying a couple of cups.

“A peace offering?” He lifts one of them slightly but she doesn’t smile or answer.

His eyes take in the chaos in the room, the clothes scattered across the bed, hung up in the medium sized wardrobe and the books on the bedside table.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he hands her one of the cups. She accepts it and shrugs one shoulder. He keeps a safe distance.

“Well you’re not screaming at me or trying to beat me up so that’s an improvement at least,” he comments and he walks past her and towards the chair beside the bed, the one he’d been occupying when she’d first come to.

“What do you want Mitchell?” she asks and he looks at her.

“We need to talk.”

She begins to shake her head. “No…there’s nothing I want to hear from you,” she retaliates and he sighs loudly and slowly shakes his head.

“Well that’s too damned bad because you’re going to have to listen to me whether you like it or not. You’re a new recruit and there are things you need to know, need to learn.”

“Such as what?” she demands stiffly.

“Like how to control your…condition. You’re different now, you’ll be aware of different things…your sense of smell, your hearing, hell even your sight. They’re all changed and they’re sharper, more defined.” He watches how she frowns at this and slowly she sits down on the edge of the bed opposite him.

“Okay. Tell me.”

Mitchell sighs quietly and copies her, sits on the chair.

“Heartbeats…you don’t have one any more. You don’t have a heartbeat or a pulse but you’ll be able to hear others, of those still alive. When you’re new it’s…distracting, fascinating even…and that’s when the trouble begins.” He frowns slightly and then looks at her. “You want to find out what it is, it’s the blood…rushing through those veins and arteries…you want to know how it tastes and once you start to wondering you quickly realise that it’s all you can think about and it never stops. It never goes away.” He watches her. Her eyes widen slightly and she slowly lifts the cup to her lips and she takes a slow, experimental sip. As she lowers the cup again, she lifts her eyes to his.

“Is that what it’s like for you?” Her voice is quiet. He stares at her and eventually he nods.

“Constantly,” he confesses.

She pauses. “That’s why you were so…withdrawn when we first met…after the gig when you… turned me down.”  She straightens slightly as another thought occurs to her. “Because of the blood… _my_ blood?” Mitchell nods, his expression solemn as he continues to watch her.

“And that’s the toughest part?”

“The craving is tough; it’s always there scratching below the surface. Some choose to embrace it; others struggle against it and try to control it.”

“Which road have you taken?” Mitchell sighs shakily and takes a quick mouthful of his tea and it burns his tongue.

“I’ve taken both roads. I used to be really bad, I was well known. I liked the lifestyle far too much but I began to change, I started to question it all. I’ve tried giving it up before and for whatever reasons I usually failed. This time I’ve been off the blood for six months and they have been the toughest six months of my life so far,” he admits.

“What about Harper?”

“Oh he’s been off the blood much longer than I have, than anyone that I know.”

“How long?” her voice is rich with curiosity.

“Centuries.” He sees how her eyes widen.

“You can survive that long?”

Mitchell shrugs again. “He can.”

Though for how much longer is anyone’s guess.

“How long,” she pauses and shifts slightly, looking away “How long have you been a vampire?” Shannon asks him, lifting her eyes to his face once more and he sighs. A knot that has been tied tightly inside of him these last few days begins to loosen very slightly at her question.

“Eighty three years almost exactly,” he answers. He watches her expression carefully. She stares at his face and then she leans towards him, shuffling forwards slightly on the edge of the bed. Her hand reaches out and touches his face; her thumb gently traces a line along his cheekbone. He lets her touch him and he enjoys the contact. It’s the first time that she’s touched him in anything except anger since that awful night.

“When were you born?”

“July 29th 1893,” he whispers. He sees how she does the maths and she blinks.

“So you’re over a hundred years old but you look the same age as I am,” she breathes. She lowers her hand and wraps it around her cup. He misses the contact.

“What happened to you…were you given a choice?” He hears her tone become sharper and it scratches at his conscience.

“I was a soldier in the Great War and I was given the choice of being recruited or my men being slaughtered. I thought I was being honourable and saving them. They killed them anyway so it was all for nothing,” he mutters.

“They?”

“My sire…my maker…and the group of vampires he was travelling with. I suppose he saw something in me. I stumbled across him and his gang feeding and stripping newly dead corpses of any valuables they may have had on a French battlefield. Herrick took one look at me and that was it, I was his.” He watches how she frowns.

“Herrick…I know that name…” she murmurs. Mitchell sighs shakily.

“You’ve met him…he interviewed you after the attack at the hospital,” he tells her and he watches how her eyes widen.

“He’s a _vampire_?” she hisses and slowly Mitchell nods.

“We’re everywhere Shannon; we’re in all walks of life because it serves a purpose to keeping our existence from being public knowledge. Humanity wouldn’t cope if they knew about us. If there’s an attack then Herrick is on hand to cover it up, divert attention away from us. He keeps an ear to the ground, has connections.”

“And what does Harper do?”

“You’ll have to ask him yourself but he’s a good man, you can trust him I swear.”

“Do you trust him?” After a moment Mitchell nods.

“I think I do,” he replies. He sees how she takes that in.

“You don’t trust easily.” She watches how his eyes slide from her face and she has her answer. He doesn’t trust many people.

 Mitchell then leans forward and he touches her hands and is pleased to notice that she doesn’t recoil from him.

“There are things that you need to know about and do. First of all, you can’t go back to work, at least not just yet.” He sees how her eyes widen once more.

“All that blood Shannon, think about it…it’s too much for someone as new as you. I’m not saying that you can _never_ go back to nursing, maybe in a few years…”

“A few _years…_ ” Her voice rises indignantly “So what am I going to do for money?”

“We’ll take care of you for a little while; you don’t have to worry about that just now,” he tells her and she rolls her eyes.

“I won’t rely on charity Mitchell; I’ve always taken care of myself.”

“For now you don’t have a choice…”

“Well that’s all thanks to you isn’t it?” she retaliates.

“The alternative would’ve been you not being here at all,” Mitchell retorts in a hard voice that silences her. There’s an awkward silence and then Mitchell slowly and quietly exhales.

“Most new recruits aren’t as angry as you. Most of them originally like the idea of eternal life, of never aging, they’re almost excited.”

“Well I’m not most people Mitchell…”

“Yeah, I’m starting to see that.” A faint smile dances around the corner of his mouth. He takes a breath and pushes it away.

“Things are going to be different for you Shannon and not just with the blood lust and the need to feed. There are other …things.”

“There are _other_ things? Such as?” she asks, suspiciously. Mitchell glances down at his cup for a moment before looking back into her eyes.

“There’s the urge to kill. That’s the hardest part and it goes hand in hand with the endless blood lust. It’s a compulsion; you can’t stop it, not without real strength of mind.” He sees how she goes pale as she realises. He hears her quiet gasp of understanding.

“It’s not impossible; you _can_ do it if you really want to. There are ways to control it but it won’t be easy, that’s why you need to stay here for a little while,” he continues to explain. Her eyes widen very slightly.

“And the rest?” she enquires quietly, her eyes shimmering dangerously. Mitchell pauses for a second before continuing.

“You have no reflection in a mirror though you can kind of see yourself in a window. You don’t show up on film, in photographs or on CCTV.” He sees the mild surprise bloom in her eyes and he shrugs. “I’m not sure why, there have been theories of course.”

“Well that’s going to make applying make up and styling hair interesting,” she mutters.

“Try shaving,” Mitchell quips and there is suddenly a spark of rare humour in her eyes as she looks at him once more.

“You don’t,” she points out and he grins as he rubs his chin.

“And now you know why.” His eyes go to her face as he smiles softly when he hears her quiet chuckle.

She’s in a better mood when he leaves her and he’s grateful for that. Perhaps it won’t be so tough after all, maybe they will have some kind of future together but it’s too early to tell. So she’s been more agreeable today, tomorrow she may go back to square one.

* * *

 

He hears an almighty crash and it makes him start. He lifts his head and listens. The door to the conservatory has been firmly shut for the last two hours. He isn’t stupid, he got the message loud and clear. Harper wants to be alone and he’s only too happy to grant him his wish. The sound of breaking glass makes him switch off the television that hasn’t really been holding his attention and get to his feet.  He heads towards the conservatory and as he gets to the door he sees something fly across his field of vision and shatter noisily on the floor, another equally loud crash follows and he opens the door and steps through.

There are easels and broken canvasses scattered across the floor. The smell of white spirit assaults his senses and he sees broken glass and paintbrushes littering the floor. He turns his head and sees Harper upend one of the wrought iron tables and the noise is cataclysmic. It’s then he sees Mitchell standing in the doorway and his expression is defiant.

“What do you want?” he snarls at him and Mitchell notices how he’s rocking unsteadily.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he exclaims and he walks towards him.

“Just leave me alone, it’s got nothing to do with you,” Harper retorts. Mitchell picks his way through the carnage. He notices an empty whisky bottle lying by Harper’s feet and he lifts his eyes to his.

“You’re drunk.”

“Oh give the man a prize!” Harper exclaims loudly.

Mitchell sighs. “This doesn’t help anything Harper…it doesn’t change a thing.”

“Speaks the vampire I poured out of a bar barely a week ago!”

Mitchell frowns at him. “Are you always this much of an arsehole when you’re pissed?” he hisses at him and Harper rolls his eyes.

“That’s rich coming from you…like I said, nothing to do with you so I’d appreciate it if you left me alone.” He sways unsteadily and Mitchell grabs his arm before he falls over.

“Sorry, not going to happen.”

Harper rolls his eyes almost theatrically. “Oh I get it now…you’re attempting to save me from myself, is that it?”

“Unless you’re planning on throwing yourself onto a stake then no I’m not. You’re making a hell of a racket and you’ll have Shannon down here in a minute and believe me you do not want that happening.”

Harper frowns at him, his usually sharp eyes fuzzy from excess alcohol. “Why not?”

“Believe me you just wouldn’t. Come on, time for bed.” He tightens his grip on Harper’s arm.

“Leave me alone.” He goes to pull his arm out of his grasp and instead Mitchell tightens his grip and yanks him towards him. Harper blinks in surprise and Mitchell steadies him with his other hand.

“Listen to me, yes a week ago I was on the verge of creating my own special brand of mayhem and _yes_ you hauled me out of that bar and straightened me up. I’m sorry that you lost your girl, I truly am but upstairs is a newborn vampire who needs our help, she needs your experience, I need your experience and you railing at the heavens and getting pissed doesn’t change that. You’re going to wake up in the morning with a hell of a hangover and a trashed conservatory but it won’t bring her back.” Harper’s eyes are wide.

“I can’t do this by myself,” Mitchell admits.

“Then you should’ve thought about that before you recruited her. I _told_ you that she was your responsibility, did you think I was kidding?” Harper retaliates and Mitchell stares at him in amazement.

“ _Jesus_!” he then exclaims. He pushes him away from him and lets go of him at the same time. Harper loses his balance and collapses amidst the debris of the room.

“You’re giving up, just like that? Half a millennium over a girl?” he demands angrily. He takes a couple of steps towards him and stops.

“She wasn’t just _any_ girl Mitchell…” Harper hisses back at him and Mitchell frowns.

“You had me believing in you, I told Shannon that she could trust you and instead I find you like this and you told me _I_ was weak?” he exclaims. He shakes his head.

“Go to hell Harper. Me and Shannon will be gone in the morning.” He turns and stalks out, his boots crunching on the glass as he leaves.

* * *

 

For the first time since her new life has begun she wakes up feeling somewhat closer to normal. For the first time she isn’t filled with anger and helpless fury at Mitchell for doing what he did.

She grabs a towel and her toiletries and she heads off to the bathroom along the corridor from her room. She showers and brushes her teeth. It then occurs to her that there isn’t a mirror to be found. She frowns as she feels her stomach begin to churn and cramp. She rubs at it. It doesn’t hurt, not very much but it’s enough to get her attention. She can still feel that itch beneath her skin; the one Harper has said is connected to blood lust. It scares her a little bit.

The house is quiet as she slowly makes her way downstairs. She wonders whether Harper will mind her making some tea. She ventures towards the kitchen, keeping her eyes open for him or for Mitchell. She doesn’t see either of them. Everything is as quiet at the grave. As she goes further into the kitchen she notices that the door to the conservatory is wide open and sunlight pours through the glass panes. She wrinkles her nose at the sour smell of white spirits and something else. Curiously she heads towards the source.

Her eyes widen when she sees the destruction. The floor is littered with debris. There are paintbrushes, paints and broken glass everywhere as well as wrecked canvasses and picture frames and upended easels. Someone had quite an outburst last night. Or have they been burgled? She turns her head and sees the pulled over tables. There doesn’t seem to be any signs of being broken into. She sees the empty whisky bottle lying on its side amidst all the other rubbish. Perhaps it’s all down to artistic temperament instead? She sighs and is tempted to close the door on it and leave the mess for Harper to clear up when he appears. Then she pauses. He has been kind enough to offer her a place to stay during all of this turmoil so perhaps she could straighten up the mess as a way of saying thank you. She turns and heads back into the kitchen, mildly pleased with the task ahead.

She makes herself a cup of tea and then searches out a broom, a smaller sweeping brush and dust pan. She finds a mop and bucket and a quick sweep of the cupboards beneath the sink reveals washing up liquid and bleach.

Broken glass glitters in the sunshine as Shannon slowly re-enters. There are sheets of paper tossed carelessly around like oversized confetti, mixed in with the discarded paintbrushes, pencils and other things. She quietly sighs.

She picks up the paintbrushes and leaves them in a tidy pile on one of the wrought iron tables that isn’t upended. She begins to collect the sheets of paper, holding them against her chest as she picks them up and shakes off the glass shards.  She doesn’t look at what’s on them; she wants the room to be tidy. The smell of white spirit scratches the back of her throat and makes her eyes water a little. Most of all she wants rid of that smell. She straightens up and carefully places the paper onto the table beside the brushes. It’s then that she notices what is on them. Or more to the point _who_ is on them.

Her eyes widen in recognition. She smooths the crinkled paper and frowns a little bit. There’s no mistaking the face that is lovingly displayed there. She gasps.

She flashes back to the locker room, those big innocent looking blue eyes, the thick blue-black hair, the cold smile. She remembers how those eyes flooded pure black, the sharp pain of teeth piercing skin.  She remembers a greyness that faded slowly to darkness. She remembers coming to, a terrified gasp escaping her lungs and everything changing.

Fear swamps her and makes her stiffen. Is she here? Her head snaps up and she listens intently. Everything has been a horrific blur over the last few days but could she really be here, lurking somewhere and waiting for her? She begins to shake and her hands cover her mouth. She doesn’t know what to do if she sees her. She feels tears blossom in her eyes. She spins and sees the patio doors and she hurries towards them. Panic gives her strength as she turns the handle and she almost sobs in relief as the door opens easily. She exits and as soon as the cool breeze hits her face she begins to run. Fear is her willing companion as she flees.

 

 


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fledgling vampire on the loose, what could possibly go wrong?

**Chapter Twenty Four:**

Shannon’s bedroom door is partially open. Mitchell taps on it as he peers around the edge and notices that it’s empty. The bed is neatly made. He can’t help but notice that it looks a bit more lived in now and not like a guest room. He wonders how she’ll feel about the idea of leaving here, renting a place together and existing like that. It doesn’t sound particularly appetising right now but after the confrontation with Harper last night there isn’t really much of an alternative. Harper has made it clear that Shannon is his sole responsibility. He heads down to the kitchen and notices that it too is empty. There’s a discarded cup on the draining board so someone is up. He’ll be amazed if that someone is Harper. He turns and it’s then that he sees the patio door open. He goes into the conservatory and pauses when he sees the paintbrushes on the table, the neat pile of paper beside it. He also sees the bucket of water and the mop resting obediently beside it and as he approaches the table, he then takes notice of what it is on the paper, _who_ it is and he curses.

* * *

 

The room is in semi darkness, heavy curtains not quite managing to keep the morning sunshine out. Harper flinches as his door bursts open and he is suddenly brutally awake when he hears Mitchell’s loud belligerent voice.

“Shannon is gone,” he informs him and Harper frowns and slowly lifts his head from the pillow. Almost immediately his head begins to pound and as if in synchronicity his stomach begins a slow ominous churn. He moans quietly and slowly lies back down. His eyes blink open again when his mattress suddenly rocks and he lifts his head again.

“Did you just kick my bed?” he accuses and looks up into Mitchell’s angry face.

“Didn’t you fucking hear me? I said Shannon is _gone_!” he snarls at him.

Harper frowns. “Gone…gone where…there’s no way she could’ve….”

“You didn’t lock the patio doors after your tantrum last night did you?” Mitchell accuses. Harper slowly sits up and he thinks.

“Last night is a bit of a blur…” he confesses.

“Well maybe the state of the conservatory will jog your memory. Shannon must’ve got up early and decided to clean up the wreck you left the room in.”

“Why in God’s name would she do that?”

“Because it’s the kind of thing she’d do!” Mitchell snaps at him. He watches how he inches to the end of the bed and experimentally he sits up. He frowns. Then his vision clears and he lifts his head and his eyes widen with horror.

“Oh no,” he breathes.

“Oh yeah. She recognised the subject of your most recent drawings, the ones you threw around the room in the middle of your paddy,” Mitchell reminds him.

“Fuck…” he wheezes.

“We need to go and find her, the sooner the better.”

Harper lifts his head, an apology on his lips but Mitchell isn’t there anymore.

* * *

 

Harper hurriedly dresses and makes his way down the stairs and he pauses in the conservatory and he sees the wreckage of his tantrum of the previous night. His eyes widen with horror and his hand covers his mouth. He sees Mitchell standing beside a table and he’s leafing through the collection of wrinkled and destroyed pages. He lifts his head and looks at Harper.

“She saw these and she recognised Jessie. She doesn’t know she’s dead and probably thought she was here somewhere,” he tells him in a low voice. Harper lowers his hand.

“Didn’t you tell her?” Mitchell shook his head.

“She just started to talk to me again last night. I wasn’t about to spoil it by telling her that the vampire she’s shit scared of is dead,” he retorts and drops the papers onto the table.

“She could be anywhere. I don’t know how long she’s been gone. She might head back to her flat but that’s just a guess.”

“What are you going to do?”

 Mitchell frowns deeply.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

* * *

 

She begins to slow down as that initial terror abates. She pauses and takes in her surroundings. She has no idea where she is except that it looks like the suburbs. It’s still quite early so the streets are still relatively empty.

She keeps walking, past houses slowly waking up to the day ahead of them. She sees people emerging from their homes and the sounds that she begins to hear at first confuse her. Then she remembers what Mitchell told her about last night, about being able to hear heartbeats and pulses and such like. He warned her that it would be a bit overwhelming at first. What he didn’t tell her was just how loud those sounds were. They fill her head and make her stomach twist and cramp. She folds her arms tightly and she lowers her head and she keeps moving. She can go back to her flat and hide there for a day or two until she can collect her thoughts more coherently.

That’s if she can figure out how to get there.

As she hits the city centre, she sees shops beginning to open and deliveries being made. There are more people here, heading to work or maybe even heading home after a night shift. She remembers those, the bone numbing exhaustion, her brain barely able to function above the basic need to get home and sleep.

The sounds are getting louder, they’re filling her brain and she can’t do anything to stop them. She pauses and takes a breath and covers her ears with her hands.  It’s beginning to get to be too much. She doesn’t know what to do. She can’t go back and face them, face _her._

“Is everything okay love?” Her eyes pop open at the voice. She blinks, seeing the uniform and the bag slung over one shoulder. Her head lifts slightly.

“I’m…” Her words fade away as she hears the rhythmic thump of a pulse throbbing and her gaze sharpens when she sees the faint movement against the skin at the base of his throat. It’s a faint fluttering but she can see it quite clearly. She takes a breath and tries to look away but she can still hear it, that slow steady pulse beat, in perfect harmony with the rush of blood she can hear just beneath the surface of his skin. Just a little nip and she’ll taste it; she’ll know what all the fuss is about. She takes a slow, halting step towards him.

* * *

 

“Stop the car,” Mitchell instructs. Harper frowns at his tense words and he turns his head slightly. It’s then that he sees the commotion. There’s an ambulance parked up in the street ahead of them. There’s blue and white tape fluttering in the breeze and curious bystanders in huddles here and there, craning their necks past the waiting police officers, trying to see what all the fuss is about. Blue lights strobe urgently.

“Oh surely not…”

“A newborn vampire who hasn’t fed let loose on humanity? I know it’s been a while for you Harper but I’d put money on this being her.” Mitchell unfastens his seatbelt. He glances at him. “If there are coppers about then someone else will be nearby and I don’t want him anywhere near her. I’ll bring her back with me,” he informs him and he gets out of the car. Harper watches him hurry across the busy road and merge effortlessly into the crowds. He takes a breath. His head is raging; his stomach feels like it’s on a continuous spin cycle. This is all his fault. He has to find somewhere to park. He also hopes that he doesn’t vomit in the not too distant future.

Mitchell is ultra-observant, his eyes searching out for one policeman in particular. He slowly makes his way through the crowds, tuning in on snippets of conversation as he does so.

_“They reckon it’s the third one this week…two nurses and now this…”_

_“Looks like he’s been attacked by animals….”_

_“D’you think there’s a serial killer on the loose or something?”_

Wouldn’t he really like to know Mitchell muses as he continues forwards. There’s a row of black clad police officers on the other side of the blue and white tape and he pauses. He can’t see him but he knows he’ll be here, he’ll be lurking somewhere. He takes another step forward and pauses when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He looks into the policeman’s eyes.

“Where do you think you’re going, you’re not allowed down there,” he informs him. Mitchell regards him. He looks a little pale beneath that hat of his. He then looks down the alley where now there are white clad forensic people milling around with other policemen. He still doesn’t see him.

“I’m late for work…that’s my short-cut,” he replies with a nod of his head down the alley. The policeman glances briefly in the direction and just as quickly he looks away again. Mitchell wonders whether he was the one who found the poor sod.

“Find another shortcut mate, no one goes down there til after forensics have finished,” he replies and Mitchell sighs in frustration and he turns. As he does so, his expression deadens and he pushes his way back through the curious crowds.

He knows the city well, he knows all the nooks, crannies and hiding places and so does Herrick. He swallows down his nerves. He hopes to God that Herrick hasn’t found her. All he does know is that Shannon is dead; as far as he’s aware he doesn’t know that she’s a newborn vampire.

* * *

 

Her head is swimming in confusion. Why didn’t he fight back? It had been surprisingly easy. He had followed her down the alley and before she fully realised what she was doing, she had him pushed up against the wall, the palm of one hand pushed up against his face, turning his head to one side. His pulse throbbed in all its glory, deliciously so, irresistibly so and she’d been utterly unable to resist. She’d felt the transformation take place and barely registered his cry of alarm.

It’s over far too soon and she’s full. She lets go of him and watches as he slides in a rubbery heap onto the black bin bags at his feet. She feels…different…actually she feels amazing. Her entire body tingles, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and another feeling sweeps slowly through her…she’s _warm_ …the sensation makes her laugh almost joyously until she lifts her hands up and she sees the blood there. It’s then that she realises what she’s done. She looks back at him with different eyes. She covers her mouth and feels the damp warmth of his blood on her skin. Her eyes widen and a cry of alarm escapes from her. Panic fills her and overwhelms. She has to get out of here before she’s discovered, before…

“Well what on earth do we have here?” The silky voice makes Shannon start and she spins in its direction and her eyes go even wider when she sees the police officer who is walking slowly towards her. He seems vaguely familiar.

“It all makes sense now, what he was doing at your flat…he’s a dark horse…” he murmurs with a strangely dark smile on his face. Shannon gasps and she turns and runs.

He watches her run. He’ll find her in enough time. It’s sheer good fortune that brings him here. Her red hair is hard to miss and his eyes widened when he’d seen her stumbling along the street with the familiar expression of a newly turned vampire on her face; that of confusion and hunger. He almost feels sorry for the poor bastard she’s fed on. He turns and regards him more closely. Not a bad job all things considered. First feeds tend to be a bit on the…untidy side but not so with this one. He straightens. He’ll get the ball rolling but right at this moment he has a more interesting quarry to hunt down.

* * *

 

She has no idea where she’s going but she’s in complete turmoil. Terror makes her clumsy. The walls feel like they’re closing in and her breathing is loud in her ears. She has to get out of here but everything is so confusing. She needs to go back to the house, she needs to find Mitchell. He was right about everything, he was frustratingly right. Of course he’s right; he’s been at this a hell of a lot longer than she has. She pauses as a sob threatens to erupt. She’s scared, she’s so scared.

“Hey, why did you run?” Shannon gasps and spins around. She regards him with wide eyes. Slowly he approaches her. She’s so pale, her eyes and that hair of course are the only colour that he can see. Oh and the blood that drenches her of course.

He begins to shrug off his jacket. He has to be very careful and not spook her. As it is she’s watching him and she’s trembling very slightly. One wrongly spoken word and she’ll disappear.

He slowly smiles. “I’m not going to hurt you. On the contrary, you and I are very similar beings.” He holds the jacket out. She doesn’t move and that satisfies him. He edges closer to her. “You were hungry and confused. It’s very natural to feel like that and normal too. Why don’t you come with me and I can take care of you?”

“Mitchell told me about you, I remember you from the hospital,” Shannon replies and Herrick slowly nods.

“Ah yes, you’re Mitchell’s friend…the nurse. Does he know that you’re here?” He sees how she pauses and then after a moment she shakes her head. She doesn’t notice him stop beside her and then carefully wrap his coat around her shoulders.

“Then why don’t you come with me and I’ll contact Mitchell to let him know that you’re with me?” he suggests smoothly. She regards him with wide eyes and he sees the tear traces mixed in with the blood splashes on her face.

“I have to find Mitchell…I need him,” she mumbles. Herrick sighs quietly and slides an arm across her shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get him to you in time, it’s all under control, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he reassures her and he begins to lead her back along the alleyway. His car isn’t far; he can get her in and away from the scene of the crime in next to no time. He pauses when he sees the figures standing over the discarded body of the postman. Quietly he curses and turns, taking Shannon with him. How the hell had the police got there so quickly?

“This way is quicker,” he tells her with a solicitous smile and they head back the way they came.

* * *

 

The alley begins to widen and Herrick can see a way out. Okay, time to rethink and regroup. He’ll get her cleaned up somewhere, take her to the car and they can be at the office in next to no time. He bites back a smile. It’s going to be fun yanking Mitchell’s chain. He has such leverage. He almost laughs out loud.

“Jesus, Shannon!”

“Mitchell!” Shannon exclaims and Herrick watches her run towards him, his jacket falling to the ground. Herrick watches as she throws herself into Mitchell’s arms. His arms go around her and his eyes close with relief. He draws her back and his eyes scan her face worriedly.

“You’ve fed.” He watches her expression crumple and tears fill her eyes.

“Oh God Mitchell…I couldn’t help myself…he was just there…and all he did was ask if I was okay…”

“Hush…” He draws her back into his arms and his hand comes up to cradle the back of her head. Her arms wrap around him and she clings to him. Mitchell turns his head in Herrick’s direction.

“Was this anything to do with you?” he demands coldly. Herrick widens his eyes. He reaches down and retrieves his jacket and hooks it over one arm.

“On the contrary soldier, I came across the aftermath. She’s got a lot of promise that one, very tidy for what I’m assuming is her first kill?”

“And her last,” Mitchell tells him in a low voice, his arms tightening around her and Herrick grins.

“Really?” he chuckles. “Good luck with that. Your girl has real potential that really shouldn’t be wasted.”

“Go to hell Herrick,” Mitchell growls at him and Herrick continues to chuckle.

“Oh change the record for God’s sake. You’re missing a golden opportunity, do you really intend to continue this charade…with her, do you know who recruited her?” he waits and silence stretches out between them. It’s then that Herrick understands.

“Ah. Naughty. I thought for a moment that Eleanor had played a really mean trick on you, seems like the joke is on you anyway.” He slowly smiles. “It doesn’t have to be like this you know,” he reminds him.

“What are you suggesting? That I come back to you? You already know my answer on that one,” Mitchell retorts.

“You could even bring Shannon along with you, I’d have no objections to that.”

“Really, well that’s just too bad because I would.” He looks back down at Shannon who still has a death grip around his waist.

“So that’s your solution to her accepting you Mitchell, to make her into a version of you? Well done,” Herrick drawls. Mitchell glares at him and he looks back at Shannon.

“Let’s go,” he tells her and they turn. They begin to walk. Herrick swallows against the anger that begins to ferment.

“You can barely look after yourself soldier so why on earth do you think you’ll be able to look after her by yourself?” he calls out. He glares at Mitchell’s departing back.

“Oh thank Christ you’ve found her,” Harper breathes as he suddenly comes into view. Shannon pulls up and she freezes. Harper’s eyes widen.

“Oh please…you and I need to talk…about those drawings that you found. I need to explain…” he begins. Mitchell’s arm tightens across Shannon’s shoulders and she looks at him. “The girl who attacked you…the girl in the picture…she’s not a threat to you, she won’t hurt you I swear,” he promises. He glances briefly at Harper. “She’s not at the house, she isn’t anywhere. She can’t hurt you.” He looks at her, the blood that splashes her skin and her clothing looks faintly obscene.

“Will you come back to the house?” he asks. Shannon’s eyes are wide and he can feel her trembling. After a moment she nods and Mitchell smiles with relief. He presses a kiss against the side of her head.

“The car isn’t far away, come on.” Mitchell lowers his arm and he shrugs off his jacket. He drapes it around her and watches her slide her arms into the holes.

Herrick watches the trio depart. He stiffens as Harper slowly turns his head and regards him for a long moment. That’s who Mitchell is keeping company with? Jude Harper?  All of a sudden he doesn’t feel quite so confident.

* * *

 

She doesn’t have any more blood on her. They’d gone into a fast food restaurant and Mitchell had stood guard outside of the ladies’ toilets as she sluiced her face free of any incrimination. She dried her face on a paper towel and lifted her head. Even though Mitchell has told her that she no longer has a reflection, seeing the fact for herself is still a shock. She quickly leaves and with Mitchell and Harper, they head for the car.

She climbs into the back seat and huddles down. Mitchell gets into the passenger seat and Harper drives. She’s so tired all of a sudden. She closes her eyes for a moment but when she does she sees the wide scared eyes of the postman. He’d only been trying to help. She swallows against the nausea that threatens to rise.

“Are you okay?” Mitchell’s voice is low but deep with concern. She looks at him and feels fresh tears spurt. Mutely she shakes her head. Mitchell glances at Harper, who after a moment pulls over and allows Mitchell to get out. He opens the rear passenger seat and slips in beside her. Without an invitation he slides his arms around her and draws her up against him. She turns her face into the curve of his neck and she closes her eyes.

She doesn’t open her eyes again until Harper quietly announces that they’re back at the house.

* * *

 

She stands in the middle of the bathroom and watches as Mitchell straightens. The air is heavy with fragrant steam but she trembles as if it’s below zero.  There are towels neatly folded on the nearby toilet seat. Mitchell glances at them before turning to look at her. She has that faraway expression on her face that he remembers. She’s remembering him. She’s remembering what he looked like, what he said and what she did. It’ll tumble mercilessly around inside of her head until it drives her either insane or to another kill. He remembers the feeling but in his case he had a willing tutor to lead him to his next victim.

“I’ll leave you alone.” He moves past her but pauses as she grabs his wrist. Her eyes lift to his.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispers. He frowns at her.

“I won’t be far away,” he promises and she slowly shakes her head.

“I don’t want to be alone Mitchell…please.”

He watches her.“But…” He sighs quietly. “Okay. I’ll stay,” he tells her.

She strips off her clothes, uncaring that he’s in the same room and drops them at her feet. Mitchell swallows against a suddenly dry throat when faced with the sight of her pale flawless skin, her red hair a flash of bright colour. He watches as she climbs into the bath and sinks down into the hot water. After a moment he goes to sit on the floor beside the bath. He looks at her. She still looks so pale, so vacant, so utterly shocked by everything.

“I could get you a drink if you like?” he suggests and he hopes Harper still has something stronger than beer after last night. She turns her head and she looks at him. She shakes her head.

“Why aren’t you angry with me?” she asks him after a moment and he frowns at her.

“Why should I be angry with you?”

“Because I ran. Because I killed. Because I didn’t believe what you said last night; I thought that you were humouring me about the blood lust. I thought you were just…controlling me…frightening me.” She looks away and frowns into the water. He watches her curiously.

“You’re new and then you had a scare. I wasn’t angry; I was afraid if you want me to be honest.”

“Afraid?” Her eyes snap back to his face.

“Newborn vampire, first trip out without support…yeah I was afraid and with good reason.”

She looks away once more. “The pictures…she was who attacked me…bit me…”

“I know.”

“How did Harper know her?”

Mitchell shrugs. “I have no idea. I know that Harper has been keeping an eye on me from afar and Jessie…that was her name…she and I had a history of a kind so maybe she was out for revenge, or she was doing what her sire wanted her to do.”

“The blonde vampire…”

“Eleanor Brennan,” Mitchell confirms. Shannon continues to frown.

“She said she’d hurt you if I didn’t go with her. How do you know her?”

“A long time ago when I was pretty…new myself, I had a relationship with another vampire by the name of Lily. It was intense and I thought it was something special but I was wrong.”

“What did you do?” She sees how his expression becomes distant for just a moment.

“I killed her. Eleanor was her sire and she didn’t take it well.” He sighs raggedly.

“And that’s why she came after me?” He looks at her and eventually he nods.

“Yeah. She held a grudge for seventy five years,” he murmurs. And he’s truly sorry for it.

* * *

 

“Why can’t I feel warm?” she climbs out of the bath and like a child he wraps the enormous bath towel around her. It covers her from her chin to her toes. She looks up at him with wide golden coloured eyes.

“Ever since I was changed I’ve been cold. The only time I was warm was when I…fed.” Mitchell sighs and he looks at her. He knows what she’s talking about, he remembers all too well that warm flush that briefly heats the skin after feeding. It’s one of the best feelings in the world because when it happens, for that moment it’s as close to human as he’s likely to get. The skin pinkens and the eyes sparkle. It’s a pity it doesn’t last.

“It’s part of the condition. The trick is to wear layers of clothes, that’s what works for me and eventually you don’t notice it as much.” He watches as she lowers the towel slightly so that it’s tucked beneath her armpits. Her hair is damp and it curls slightly in the steam filled atmosphere. He can imagine his is doing the same. Her hand rests on his chest and he regards her warily.

“Thanks for this Mitchell.”

“Thanks for what?”

She shrugs a damp shoulder. “Listening. Being here. You were right; I can’t do this by myself, not just yet anyway. Will you help me?” He looks into her eyes and he slowly, softly smiles.

“Sure,” he replies. She stands on tiptoes and presses a soft kiss on his mouth. It makes him blink in surprise. He looks at her, unable to think, never mind speak.

“Sorry,” she whispers. His smile widens marginally.

“Don’t be,” he replies.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now the work begins....

**Chapter Twenty-Five:**

Harper is sitting at the kitchen table when Mitchell and Shannon reappear. Slowly he rises to his feet and his expression is sombre. Mitchell notices his pallor, the wariness in his eyes.

“How are you?” he asks Shannon, watching as she moves closer to the table but keeping Mitchell within sight at all times.

“Better,” she answers warily. Harper sighs and he sinks back down on his seat. He watches as they sit down opposite him.

“First of all I want to apologise. I behaved appallingly badly last night; I assure you that it doesn’t happen very often. It’s been a very… _bad_ …few days.” His words peter away as he looks to them both before fixing upon Shannon. “You got the most awful shock and I feel like I have to explain things to you.”

He takes a breath.

“Yes, I was having a…relationship with Jessie. Those were sketches of her that you saw. When I say that she’s no longer around then I’m telling you the truth, she’s dead, ended. She won’t…be back. She’s gone.” His expression turns bleak and he looks away. After a second he takes another breath before he looks back at her. “I understand you were trying to do something…nice by tidying up the mess that I made. I appreciate the thought and I should’ve taken more care but like I said…bad few days.”

Shannon regards him. “You cared for her.” He lifts his head and his expression is startled to say the least. He nods. “And I’m here and she’s not.”

He shrugs restlessly. “There’s nothing anyone can do about that I’m afraid.”

He glances at Mitchell.

“I’d like for us to start afresh. I’d like for you both to stay for as long as you feel comfortable and if there’s anything I can do to help with your…transition Shannon, then I will.” His words are slow and halting and Shannon sees the pain in his blue eyes.

“How can you help me?” Shannon asks, genuinely curious. She feels Mitchell’s eyes on her but she doesn’t look at him. Harper’s gaze is steady upon her face.

“I’m considered an Old One. I’m over six hundred years old and there aren’t many of us of that age around,” he answers levelly and Shannon slowly nods. She looks at Mitchell.

“I’m scared,” she admits in a low voice.

“I know,” Mitchell replies.

“You’ll help me…you’ll _both_ help me? I didn’t like what I became back then…that poor man…” Her voice fades as she looks back to Harper. He has such sad blue eyes. She watches him slowly nod.

“We’ll help you,” he promises.

“Mitchell has explained some of it to me…about how I can’t go back to my job because of the blood involved…but I need to feel useful. I’ve always looked after myself; I just can’t be comfortable relying on you both to take care of me.”

“I understand and maybe in a while we’ll figure out where you fit in but for now we need to get you…stable.” Shannon regards him and slowly she nods. She gets to her feet and Mitchell and Harper watch as she goes to the sink. There’s an upturned glass on the draining board and they watch her rinse it and fill it with water. She returns to the table and she places the glass in front of Harper. He looks at it and then back at her.

“What’s this?”

“You’re hung over. I can smell the whisky fumes from here. You need to drink that…probably more and take some painkillers because vampire or not you must have one hell of a hangover,” she answers mildly. She sees the surprised look he sends to Mitchell and she looks at him over her shoulder to see him just shrug.

“She’s a nurse,” he mumbles. Harper sighs and reaches for the glass and Shannon watches him take a sip of water. He looks a little green around the gills still.

* * *

 

Mitchell brings her tea and he smiles into her eyes as she accepts the cup from him. It’s been a couple of days since her escape and everyone is on tenterhooks. Mitchell watches her almost constantly. She’s coming down from her first kill, he recognises the symptoms, she’s pale and she’s twitchy. Oh she tries to hide it but he’s been around far too long not to recognise it. She’ll start to get achy and crampy and that’s when the moods will begin to swing and that’s the part he’s dreading. Things are just beginning to settle down between them and soon everything will be upset again.

He has to go back to work shortly. After Shannon was first turned he called in and faked an illness for a few days but now he has to go back. He needs the money and plus he needs information. He also has to trust Shannon with Harper. Prior to their falling out then he wouldn’t think twice about it but now…Harper is contrite and accommodating at the moment but Mitchell worries all the same.

Shannon can’t sleep. She’s fidgety and restless. Mitchell is trying not to hover and she’s trying to understand why he is but it annoys her all the same. All she can think about is blood, the warmth of it, the coppery salty taste of it flowing down her throat and filling her. She closes her eyes and she remembers it all, how it felt, how easy it had been and it’s all she can do to stay in control. The only thing that stops her right now is remembering the expression on her victim’s face, the sheer terror. He’d been taller than her and easily outweighed her but against her raging bloodlust he stood no chance. That knowledge alone keeps her in check.

She lies in bed and she trembles. She’s so cold, stone cold. She wraps her arms around her body and tries to stop the shaking that racks her bones but it’s useless. Her eyes open when she feels the mattress give slightly and she turns her head and she sees Mitchell climb into bed beside her.

“Hey,” he murmurs in a low voice. She rolls towards him and his arms encircle her and he draws her up against him. “Try and relax,” he tells her.

“I can’t…I hurt Mitchell, everything itches and hurts. Nothing helps.”

“It’s withdrawal, like drug addiction when you come off it you go through this. The longer you’ve been on it the more unpleasant it is. For you it should be like a mild cold.” His voice is low and strangely comforting.

“What was it like for you?”

“I was like a rabid animal, the worst dose of flu ever times ten thousand. Right now it’s the thought of going through that again that keeps me sober,” he answers.

“It’s hard.”

“I know.” She feels him slowly rub her back. She unfurls her arms and slips one of them around him.

“Where’s Harper?”

“In his conservatory. He’ll be okay in time.” She lifts her head slightly and looks into his eyes.

“He had feelings for her Mitchell, deep feelings if my impressions are correct.”

“I know. He wants revenge and I’m trying to make him realise that it’s a really bad idea.”

“It would be, it wouldn’t solve anything, won’t bring her back.” She begins to shake again. She can’t help it, she can’t stop it. Her teeth chatter.

“That’s what I’ve told him. Come on, lie down. We can talk til you feel sleepy.”

“I don’t feel sleepy Mitchell. The only thing stopping me from leaving this room right now is you. The need for blood is getting to be too much…it’s doing my head in.” He hears how her voice tightens with frustration.

“If you’re serious about not feeding then you can overcome this,” he tells her “and you will feel sleepy eventually.”

“I know a way…” She sits up and looks down at him, at his faint frown. She slowly smiles. His expression clears in understanding.

“Oh God Shannon…no…”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not in your right mind that’s why…sex won’t take away the craving.”

“But it’ll give me something else to think about… _Mitchell_ …” She draws his name out in a long whine. He stiffens as she straddles him. His hands shoot up to grab hold of her forearms.

“Shannon. No.” He flinches as she wriggles. He lets go of her arms and instead his hands clasp at her hips. She grins at him.

“Oh you like that idea…you _really_ do…” she purrs and she leans down. Mitchell takes a breath and he twists her and flips her onto her back.

“Please…there’s nothing I’d like more but believe me, it’s really not the right time.” He stares into her eyes and she sees how they widen in genuine surprise. He watches them fill with tears. She hits out at him and then rolls onto her side, putting her back to him. He looks at her for another moment before he quietly sighs and lies down. He stares at the back of her head and then slowly slips an arm around her waist. She stiffens up but she doesn’t pull away. He has to be grateful for that.

* * *

 

She doesn’t sleep. Mitchell doesn’t sleep either but he watches her as she paces around her room. She’s pale and dishevelled, dark shadows beneath her eyes. He recognises the hunger in her expression, the need. He climbs out of bed and he goes to her.

“Come on, you need to rest,” he murmurs. She pauses as he wraps his arms around her. She’s stiff, her arms folded tightly around her body, her shoulders hunched. Unresponsive.

“I can’t.”

“You don’t know unless you try.”

“Haven’t you been listening? I said that I _can’t_ ,” she replies, her voice a low snarl. Mitchell sighs. She turns in a swift sudden movement that makes him take a step back.

“I can’t do this, I have to go.” She heads for the door. Mitchell strides after her and his hand reaches the door a millisecond before hers does. He slips in between and presses his back against the wood. He looks at her.

“Mitchell, get out of my way,” she instructs. She lifts her head and she looks at him. Her gaze is steady and unflinching.

“And where would you go?” he asks. She takes a half step back and at the same time she shrugs.

“I don’t know. Away from here. This is _hell_ Mitchell; I don’t know how you can do it day in and day out!”

“I just do.”

“Well I can’t.” She takes a step towards him and she frowns when he doesn’t move out of the way.

“Mitchell….”

“So that’s it, you’re just going to give up? You told me and Harper that you didn’t want to be what you became in that alley.”

“I can’t do this, it’s too hard.”

“And now you’re being pathetic. Do you think that leaving here and going out there and killing is going to make it all go away? It’s just a quick fix Shannon, in a couple of days you’ll hate yourself all over again and be back in the same situation as you’re in now.”

“I don’t care,” she retorts and a knowing half smile forms on Mitchell’s face.

“Liar,” he whispers to her. He watches her eyes slowly widen.

“Who do you think your next victim will be? Because that’s who he or she will be. Someone like the fella you took down in that alley perhaps? A woman this time, a shop worker, a receptionist or someone’s mam hurrying home to her husband and kids….or here’s one for you…how about a kid on the way to his mate’s house for tea, how about that, a bit little mind you but it’s food, am I right?” Mitchell retorts, his voice becoming harder with each word thrown at her.  She flinches under the assault.

“How can you say that to me? How can you be so hypocritical?” she demands hotly.

“Because time and time again I’ve stood where you are and done the exact same thing. I’ve tried to justify reasons not to stay clean and at the end of the day it was because I was a coward. You told Harper and me that you didn’t want to be like that, you wanted us to help you so _let_ us!” He watches tears flow and she lunges at him. He grabs her by her shoulders and holds on tightly.

“This is all your fault…I wouldn’t be like this….”

“If it weren’t for me…yeah I get that and here’s a newsflash for you darlin’ it doesn’t work anymore. Think about how you were before all of this, how… _dedicated_ you were…that little girl you ran into A and E with. Think about her, that was down to vampires Shannon.” He stares into her eyes, a frown marring his brow. “You can fight me all you want, you can call me every name you can think of but I’m not letting you through that door.”

He exhales roughly. “I may have recruited you but you have a chance. I won’t let you become like me. I won’t put you through that version of hell,” he grinds out. He sees the anger in her eyes but he holds her gaze with new determination and eventually her shoulders slump in defeat. He straightens up and he draws her into his arms again.

Finally Shannon sleeps. He lies beside her on the bed and he holds her. His eyes close for a brief moment. He’s weary, absolutely worn out and fear crawls inside of his skull. He doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to do this, if he can be the support that she needs.

Well he’s made his bed and now he has to lie in it. It’s something his mam used to say.

He swallows.

* * *

 

Shannon walks slowly into the kitchen. She can hear music playing quietly somewhere and it compels her. The house is usually still; it always seems to be like that.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been here as one day seems to bleed into the next. Mitchell has gone back to work and at the moment she sees him late in the evening. He’s courteous and attentive but she gets the impression that he’s beginning to disconnect. It puzzles her.

She feels so tired and so very weak, like the strength has been sapped from her bones. She walks slowly and carefully, every moment considered and thought out. She accepts that it’s part of the process. She accepts that she must be patient. It isn’t easy.

She follows the sound of the music and stops when she reaches the threshold of the conservatory. The patio doors are open in front of her and for a moment she contemplates making a run for them but she knows that she won’t get all that far.

“Oh. Hello.”

She slowly turns her head when she hears Harper’s voice. He’s seated at one of the ornate wrought iron tables that are dotted around the interior. She watches him put a sketchpad and pencil down. Slowly he rises to his feet. She watches him approach her. He seems a bit more put together since the last time she set eyes on him.

“How are you feeling?” he enquires quietly and she shrugs.

“Ah. You will feel all over the place for the first few weeks. You shouldn’t expect to feel fantastic straight away. Took me months, I still don’t think Mitchell is completely together but that’s another story entirely. Let’s have some tea and we can talk if you like?” He holds out an arm and she turns and heads back into the kitchen.

* * *

 

She sits at the table as he makes tea. He’s being solicitous and careful and she has to admit that it’s a balm on her scratched soul.

“How are you?” she asks him as he places the mug in front of her. She watches as he turns and then the question seems to register with him because he pauses and then slowly turns back around to regard her. He pauses. Shannon takes a sip of her tea and as she replaces the mug she lifts her eyes to his.

“You don’t have to tiptoe around me Harper; I’m not fragile despite what I must look like. You can say her name, you can talk about her, if it will help you.” She watches him as he slowly sits on the chair beside her. His blue eyes are sad and bleak.

“She…almost killed you, it doesn’t seem right somehow,” he confesses.

“You cared for her, that much I can tell so she can’t have been all that terrible.”

“Apart from attacking you…”

“It was bloodlust. It sounds strange but given what I now am, I kind of…understand. It wasn’t anything personal. I was the only human in the room at the time.”

“And look where you are now. I can’t help but feel responsible somehow.” He glances away.

“How are you responsible? You had no way of knowing what would happen.” She sees a whisper of emotion flit across his face.

“She wanted to become forsaken, she’d made that choice and it was going to be all sorts of wonderful one day. She returned to the house to get some personal belongings and it went badly wrong from there.”

“Eleanor Brennan, Jessie’s sire. Mitchell told me about her,” she explains at his look of surprise. Harper regards her curiously.

“What else did he tell you?”

“Just that he and Eleanor had a history over another vampire, someone by the name of Lily and that Mitchell killed her.”

“Yeah, he impaled her with a poker by all accounts. He stuck her to a door with a poker and then staked her. Apparently it wasn’t pleasant but that’s what you get when you mess with Big Bad John, a relatively new recruit and in love with a slut.” He watches how her eyes widen.

“Big Bad John?” she whispers.

“It’s what he was known as. Mitchell was especially heinous during his prime, attracted a lot of attention.”

“From who?”

“Has Mitchell mentioned Edgar Wyndam to you?” He watches as she shakes her head. “He was at the house, I don’t know if you remember him, he wore a black suit.” He watches how she searches her memory and then she shakes her head.

“I don’t remember. I don’t remember very much about that night,” she admits.

“You need to be careful when you hear his name Shannon, he’s an Old One and he’s the worst one of all.”

 Shannon tilts her head to one side. “He killed Jessie didn’t he?” she guesses and he seems to freeze. After a moment he nods in confirmation.

“He did.”

“Why?” she whispers. She sees the raw naked pain in his eyes then.

“Because he could. He knew I couldn’t defend her so why not. If he ever finds out about you then there’s a chance that he could come after you. If he finds out you’re a vampire and that I’m helping you he may decide that he wants to take you off to Bolivia for a while.” He sees how her eyes widen with outrage.

“There’s no way I’d agree to that!”

A chilly smile plays around his mouth. “Oh you wouldn’t get a choice in the matter, what Edgar Wyndam wants, Edgar Wyndam gets. I think once you’re strong enough it might be a good idea to get out of the country for a while.”

“I thought you were looking for revenge…” She closes her mouth and looks away.

“Mitchell _has_ been talking hasn’t he? Well he has a right to, he witnessed my little temper tantrum the other night, I told him my motives and I didn’t exactly ask him to keep it to himself. He made a valid point about you and also himself. You both need me and I realise that now,” he confesses.  “That’s if you want my help, I didn’t exactly cover myself in glory the other day,” he tacks on and his eyes begin to warm at her answering smile.

* * *

 

Mitchell sees the patio doors open and his stomach clenches. He’s exhausted after a long and extremely busy shift and seeing those doors wide open is just a little bit too much. Brief panic flutters inside of him and his thoughts go to Shannon. Then he hears laughter and he pauses. He looks around the conservatory and finds it empty. The laughter sounds like its coming from outside and he heads towards it.

He pauses in the entry to the garden and he sees Harper and Shannon sitting on the narrow patio. It’s obvious that they’ve dragged one of the tables and a couple of chairs out of the conservatory for this reason and why not, it’s a nice evening. There’s a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table surface and he slowly walks towards it. Both of them look at him and he sees how Harper smiles. He looks enquiringly at Shannon, more surprised at seeing her out of the house than at anything else. She looks almost… _happy_.

“Hey…what’s going on here?” he asks in a low voice and her answering smile is sweet. It takes him momentarily by surprise. He turns his head slightly as Harper gets to his feet.

“Have a seat and have some wine; I’ll get you a glass. Busy day?” He doesn’t give him the opportunity to answer as he heads back into the house. Mitchell turns his head and watches him walk away. Then he returns his attention to Shannon.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks as he lowers himself down onto Harper’s recently vacated seat.

“I fancied a little fresh air after dinner. Jude suggested opening a bottle of wine in the garden and I’m glad he did, it was nice,” she replies in a soft voice. She watches him in the dusky light. The sun hasn’t long begun to set. It throws long interesting shadows across the garden.  “Don’t worry Mitchell, I didn’t feel the urge to race off and drain the nearest thing with a heartbeat,” she adds on and her smile fades when he doesn’t respond. “It’s okay, really. We’ve been talking and for the first time things feel like they might be okay,” she tells him. She moves closer to him. She reaches for his hands and holds them in hers.

“Really?” She hears the doubt in his voice but she slowly nods.

“It won’t be easy I know but yeah,” she whispers. She leans towards him and she kisses him.  She lets go of his hands as he reaches for her, gently grasping her arms and drawing her closer to him. There’s a glint in her eyes when she draws back from him.

“There’s something I have to talk to you about.” He turns his head when he hears Harper return. He’s carrying a glass and another bottle of wine. He looks back to Shannon and he takes a breath. “Abby’s funeral is tomorrow. The service is at the hospital chapel.”

He sees how her eyes go round.

“What time?” she asks in a tight voice.

“It doesn’t matter, you can’t go. You can’t enter holy ground of any description, churches, synagogues, places of worship. You won’t be able to go.”

He sees the determination and sighs quietly. “Shannon… please you just can’t,” he continues. He glances up as he hears Harper pour dark red wine into three glasses. He pushes one of the glasses to Mitchell and fills his own and then Shannon’s.

“I have to be there, she was my best friend!” she hisses. She glances up at Harper and she sees his regretful expression.

“Mitchell’s right I’m afraid, you can’t attend. While it’s not a physical impossibility, it’s a particularly uncomfortable experience for someone like us to venture onto holy ground. It’s extremely painful.”

“Would you do it, have you done it?” she asks him.

“Just the once and a very long time ago. I paid for it later and I’ve never repeated the experience,” he answers. He then looks at Mitchell. “Do you know whether Abby is to be buried or cremated?” he asks.

“It’s a burial,” Mitchell replies. Harper returns his attention to Shannon and he regards her. Then he sighs.

“I could take you to the burial but it won’t be pleasant, you can’t stay for long and the moment I say it’s time to leave you do not argue with me do you understand?” His voice is level and allows no compromises. After a moment Shannon nods.

“Yes and thank you,” she whispers.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step forward and one step back.

**Chapter Twenty Six:**

The summer heat begins to slowly fade into the cooler comfort of autumn.

Shannon opens her eyes and she feels the weight of Mitchell’s arm across her waist, effectively pinning her to the mattress. Slowly she looks down and she smiles at his hand, at the broad silver band that graces one finger. She can feel the weight of his head between her shoulder blades and she feels grateful for it. She hears how his breathing changes and his arm tightens briefly before slipping away from her waist. The mattress gives slightly as he moves away from her. She turns and sees him lying on his back and blinking up at the ceiling. After a moment he turns his head in her direction and he looks at her. She can’t help herself as she smiles at him. His is slower in response. He turns his head in the opposite direction at the digital clock that graces his bedside table. He groans quietly.

“I have to get up in an hour,” he murmurs as if he’s not quite able to believe that he’s woken up before his alarm is due to go off. He looks back at Shannon as she moves closer to him.

“I know what we can do,” she whispers saucily and he looks back at her. He sees the twinkle in her eyes and he grins and then pulls her underneath him.

“Oh do you now?” he murmurs speculatively and she nods and then grins, reaching for him.

* * *

 

She’s making breakfast when he comes down stairs. He watches her bustle around the kitchen as if she’s born to it. She turns her head and she smiles at him.

“Just in time, take a seat, Jude is floating around somewhere.” She turns her head in the direction of the conservatory and it’s then that Harper appears.

“Did someone mention my name? Something smells nice.” He heads towards the table.

“Breakfast. Sit down.” She watches them do as she asks and she places plates in front of them. Mitchell looks down at it. He frowns slightly.

“You don’t have to keep doing this Shannon, I’m capable of getting myself some cornflakes and a cup of tea,” he sighs.

“And that’s what you’ll be doing tomorrow. I was in the mood to cook this morning.”

“And she’s very good at it you have to admit Mitchell,” Harper injects biting into a slice of toast. The look Mitchell sends him informs him that he’s not really helping. Harper grins and reaches for his tea cup instead. Mitchell slowly shakes his head and reaches for his own cup too.

They need to find her something to do that doesn’t include feeding or taking care of them.

It’s been a busy few months but so far there haven’t been any slips regarding blood. Once she made up her mind then she has stuck to her decision with a single mindedness that has both impressed him and alternatively scared him a little bit. She keeps herself busy by tidying up the house, it’s spotless and by constantly cooking and baking. If he wasn’t a vampire and skinny by nature then he easily could have gained a couple of stone in weight by now.

Harper takes her to the cemetery to witness Abby’s burial service. They keep their distance from the main group of mourners and after they leave, Shannon approaches the grave with flowers and departs with a pounding headache which is partly down to grief and tears and partly down to being on consecrated ground. Well Harper did warn her. Mitchell wisely stays away.

She’s in the process of clearing away crockery and cutlery and such like when Mitchell returns to the kitchen. He shrugs on his jacket and straps his bag across his body. He watches her move around the kitchen for a moment before he approaches the table. She turns and at the last moment he snags the last slice of toast from the rack as she reaches for it. She lifts her eyes to his and they sparkle with a smile.

“Do you know what time you’ll finish today?” she asks him as she puts the empty rack onto the draining board with the other detritus from breakfast. She glances at him over one shoulder and she sees him shrug. His eyes scan the surfaces and she watches how he pats down his pockets. She sighs and reaches for the keys on the rack beside the fridge. She unhooks them.

“Here.” He catches the keys as she tosses them across the room and his thanks is mumbled and distracted.

“I’ll see you when you get back then.” His eyes fix upon hers and he slowly approaches her.

“What have you got planned for today?” he asks in a low voice and it’s Shannon’s turn to shrug.

“Not sure yet, I’m sure Harper has something arranged. Could we go out this evening, you and me, even if it’s just for a walk somewhere?” She reaches for his hands, captures them and twines her fingers loosely around his. She sees the doubt creep into his expression and she lets go.

“You’ll be tired, maybe another time.” She turns back to the sink and turns on the hot water tap and stares blindly at it for a moment.

“Shannon…” He gently grasps her shoulders and turns her around.

“We’ll see. I can’t make any promises okay?” His smile is gentle but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. She’s getting good at recognising the genuine ones from the not so genuine ones and those not so genuine ones are appearing more and more. She swallows against the tiny chill beat of fear that flares in her gut. His hands slide upwards to frame her face and he kisses her.

“See you tonight.” he promises and just like that, he’s gone.

 

He tries not to think about her as he unlocks his car and gets in. He sits for a moment and just stares at the steering wheel. He can’t not think about her, she occupies most of his waking thoughts. She’s adapting to her new way of life well and most of it is down to Harper’s influence. He’s patient with her and he’s kind and he puts her at her ease. He’s gentle and he makes her smile. He remembers the times when he’d been eager for that smile to be directed at him, when she’d been human. She’d been so soft and sweet and now it’s been replaced by a thin shell of something different, a veneer of something hard and less forgiving. He can still see _his_ Shannon in there but in truth she’s not the same person, how can she be? And he made her like that. 

All he’s been searching for is a connection to another soul. All he’s wanted is someone there, to love him without question. He should be happy; he should be ridiculously content with his life as it is. He has a roof over his head and he has Shannon. He still grips onto his sobriety and he has Harper as a friend to talk to, to guide and to influence. It should all be perfect and he should be congratulating himself on his luck. It should be enough.

But it isn’t. He feels disconnected and ill at ease. It still isn’t enough for him and that throws him. He feels the churn of guilt in the pit of his stomach. He cares for Shannon but he doesn’t think that he loves her, not in the way that she deserves but he can’t bring himself to tear himself free of her. Despite it all they share a bond separate from the obvious one. He’s her sire as well as her lover. It’s still not enough for him and he doesn’t know what it is that will make it enough, if that can ever happen.  He feels his darker side pulling at him. The longer he ignores it, the more insistent it becomes.

He feels like he’s trapped in a web of his own creation.

* * *

 

It’s chilly today. As Shannon steps outside, she looks up at the pale cloudy sky. She zips her coat up all the way and buries her chin into the neckline. She waits. She can hear Harper closing doors and doing his last minute checks. She waits patiently until he emerges.

He smiles faintly at her as he pulls the door shut and locks it. He pockets his keys and turns to her.

“Ready?”  She just nods.

They’re walking to a nearby park. It isn’t Victoria Park and Shannon remembers that place with a pang. It had been an idyllic afternoon, spring was blooming and she and Mitchell were in the earliest part of their relationship. They’d sat beneath the shade of a weeping willow and talked, or at least she’d talked and he’d evaded whenever her questions got a bit too personal but given what she knows now she understands why.

Their summer was warm and lazy and initially Mitchell was attentive and caring but slowly she’s noticed a change, a slight disconnection and a distraction that she initially put down to him returning to work and being caught up with shifts and the like. Now she isn’t so sure. She and Harper seem to have fallen into a mutual rhythm of friendship and understanding but she’s getting the feeling that Mitchell is deliberately repelling it.

She likes Harper. He’s distracted and sometimes seemingly scatter-brained but at the same time he’s supremely observant. She sees how he smiles at her but she sees that sadness in his eyes when he thinks she’s not paying attention.

She’s beginning to find it easier being outside though she isn’t quite brave enough to be alone just yet. Harper is usually on hand to escort her and he’s strong enough to deal with her if she becomes overwhelmed. It’s got close once or twice but so far, no real emergencies have occurred.

“You’ve been quiet today,” Harper comments as they fall into their usual pace and Shannon glances at him and she pushes her hands into her jacket pockets.

“Have I?” she hedges and hears him sigh.

“You know you have. Everything okay?”

“As far as I know everything is fine,” she answers.

“As far as you know?” He watches her shrug.

“Mitchell…I don’t know…he’s just…” Her words fade away and she frowns. “He’s different,” she admits. She looks at him again as he holds out an arm.

“He’s Mitchell, he’s different full stop.” He smiles at her as she slides her hand into the crook of his arm. “And he can be such a moody bastard I don’t know how you put up with him half the time,” he teases and is rewarded by her smile.

* * *

 

She enters the park still holding onto his arm. Harper turns his head and watches how her eyes skitter nervously around. She’s taking in the humanity going about it’s business. He feels her hand grip his bicep just a little bit more tightly for a moment and her whole demeanour becomes tense.

“You can do it Shannon, you know you can. You need to learn how to trust yourself.” Harper’s voice is quiet, his expression watchful. She glances at him and her smile is brief but grateful.

“You’ve been doing this for a hell of a lot longer than I have Jude,” she reminds him with a little laugh. His other hand covers the one at his elbow.

“One day you’ll be able to focus without having to think about it. It takes time and you’re a quick study, you’ll do it.”

“I like your confidence,” she whispers as they slowly walk along a gravelled path. She eyes the people around them warily.

“Because I believe in you that’s why, I have faith in you.” Harper turns his head and he watches life go on around him. Shannon walks slowly; he can almost smell her fear.

They find a vacant bench and sink onto it. Harper glances at her as she folds her arms and huddles in on herself.

“Surely you’ve got better things to do than babysit me?” she enquires and his answering smile is fleeting. He turns his attention across the park, at the expanse of green lawns, the immaculate grass littered with leaves of a variety of shades of brown yellow and orange.

“Not a thing,” he replies.

“I don’t believe that for a moment,” she mutters and he rolls his eyes.

“When I said I’d help you with your transition Shannon, I meant it. I always keep my promises. I was in your shoes once and I remember how terrifying it is. I remember how I clung to my sire, how he supported me when I finally made my choice to become forsaken. He was my strength more than he ever realised.” He looks at her and sees her observing him with a keenness that is a little disconcerting.

“Mitchell is supposed to be doing this, he’s my sire.”

Harper nods. “You’re right, he is but I’m available and I’m more experienced. Sires operate differently; there isn’t a code as such except not to kill them if you can possibly help it.” He flashes her a quick smile and she regards him curiously.

“Have you ever…what was the term Mitchell used... _recruited_ …have you ever recruited anyone?” she asks him. He looks at her and slowly he shakes his head.

“No I haven’t. When I was at my worst I was there for the blood, for the kill, I wasn’t interested in making new friends.”

“You…”

“I was. For just under a century and a half. Then I stopped.” He looks into her eyes and he sees how they widen.

“Just like that?”

Harper shrugs. “Not immediately but I decided to stop feeding and while it wasn’t easy, I managed to stay clean.”

“Because of your sire?” He nods.

“Do you ever think about going back to it all…” Her words halt as his expression seems to close in. “I’m sorry, that was too personal,” she apologises quickly. He glances at her.

“No…it’s a valid question…and after Jessie died then yes I did. It was all that I thought about for a little while,” he confesses.

“What stopped you?”

He looks at her once more. “It was you Shannon. You stopped me.”

They walk again and Shannon is stunned by Harper’s admission. She stopped him from going out and killing?

“There’s a coffee shop near to here, how do you feel about a cup of tea?” Harper suggests. He sees the brief flare of alarm that illuminates her eyes at his suggestion and he smiles at her.

“You’ll be fine, you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for Shannon,” he cajoles. She sighs quietly.

“Okay, a cup of tea,” she concedes and his smile widens with triumph.

“That’s my girl. It’s not far. This way.” He reaches for her hand and pulls it through the crook of his elbow again and they head for the park exit.

* * *

 

Harper orders tea and they sit at a table by the window and they wait for it to arrive. He pretends not to notice Shannon’s tension. To anyone else she looks like a girl content to watch the world go by but he can tell by the set of her shoulders, by the fact that her eyes don’t seem to be able to hold onto anything that she’s nervous. He sympathises. She’s really trying.

“Hey, try and relax,” he murmurs and she starts guiltily.

“Sorry,” she mutters and returns her attention to watching people wander past her line of vision.

The waitress appears at their table carrying a tray containing a tea pot, two cups and saucers, milk, sugar and spoons. Harper watches as Shannon tenses and then she takes a deep breath and he sees her relax with a deliberateness that he finds interesting. She glances at the waitress and she quietly thanks her after she places everything onto the table in between them. She watches her walk away. Her eyes take in the rest of the décor. It’s basic but clean and almost empty for the time of day.  She returns her attention to Harper as he picks up the teapot and pours tea into her cup.  He adds milk, gives it a stir and pushes it slowly towards her.

“Drink,” he murmurs and watches her pick up the plain white cup and lift it to her lips. He opens his mouth to say something but at that moment they both hear a tremendous crash of glass and crockery. It makes Shannon jump and she swears mildly as hot tea sloshes over the rim of her cup onto her fingers. Harper in the meantime turns his head in the direction of the noise and gets to his feet. He glances at Shannon.

“Stay and drink your tea.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see if everything is okay, I’ll be back in a moment.” Shannon lowers her cup and wipes her wet fingers on a paper napkin and she watches him walk away. After a moment she sighs, drops the napkin and she follows.

* * *

 

She sees broken glass and cups littered across the floor and she smells the blood instantly. It momentarily takes her breath away and she feels instinct begin to swell. She freezes and closes her eyes and wills it away.  Harper has said that she’ll be able to do this without thinking. Once she’s calmer, she opens her eyes. Harper is with the waitress who served them earlier and they’re both standing beside a sink. She watches as Harper looks at her over one shoulder and he telegraphs his annoyance at his instructions being disobeyed in a single look. Shannon takes a breath and makes herself walk towards them.

“Is there a problem?” she enquires and only Harper hears the slight tremble in her voice. The waitress glances at her and her pale face is taut with pain.  Shannon looks down and she sees the deep gash on her wrist that is oozing a lot of blood. Her mouth goes dry and for a moment she just stares at the blood, at the clarity of its colour, she remembers the taste, the warmth of it and her mouth begins to water.

“Cut it on some broken glass, floor was wet and I wasn’t paying attention,” the waitress mutters tightly and winces as Harper presses his hand over the wound. He looks at Shannon once more. She takes a breath. She can hear the beat of her heart, the throb of her pulse and for a moment it’s the only sound that fills her head.

“I’m a nurse, can I take a look?” She lifts her head and sees the cook at the back of the kitchen watching them warily. “Could I have some clean tea towels and please call for an ambulance, she needs to get to A and E, the gash looks quite deep and she’s very pale,” Shannon requests.  She glances firstly at Harper who is watching her carefully and then she looks at the waitress and she smiles softly. The noises begin to fade away.

“What’s your name?”

“B...Beth,” she whispers.

“Well Beth, I’m Shannon and this is Jude, everything will be fine…”

* * *

 

She doesn’t recognise the paramedics who arrive to treat the waitress and she’s relieved. As far as the hospital is concerned she’s still on compassionate leave. She watches them depart and her head snaps back when another waitress appears.

“Thank you for helping Beth, she’s not good with the sight of blood. How about I get you both some more tea, on the house?” she suggests and Shannon sends Harper a slightly panicked look and then she nods rapidly. She looks down and she sees the rusty streaks of blood still staining her skin. Her stomach turns over. She looks back at the waitress.

“I….I must wash my hands,” she stammers and she pushes past her and heads towards the sink.

She turns the tap on hard and her head is filled with the sound of the water thundering against the metal sink. She waits a moment or two as she tries to collect her scattered thoughts before she plunges her hands beneath the water. It’s blisteringly hot and it makes her hiss and quietly swear but she keeps going. She adds soap and she scrubs her skin until the skin is red raw. She pushes her hands beneath the volcanically hot water and she watches the blood slide down the plughole in a coppery tinged waterfall along with the escaping water and soap bubbles.

“That’s enough.” She starts when an arm appears in her line of vision and switches off the tap. She looks up at Harper who has a tea towel in his hands which he wraps around her hands.

“You’re clean but on the way to third degree burns. Everything is okay Shannon; you kept it together and didn’t wipe out the entire café. You see, you can do it. Now let’s have that tea the lovely Ruth has offered and then go home, I think you’ve had enough drama for one day.” She nods, unable to answer, unable to form a sentence in her head.

* * *

 

His shift is over for the day and the sky is dusky as he emerges from the hospital building. He should head on home, spend some time with Shannon and ask how her day has gone, let her fuss over him and take care of him. He pauses. He should but he doesn’t want to.

The pub is reasonably busy. He buys a pint and heads for a vacant table. He sits down and carefully places the glass on a coaster and he looks at it for a moment. All around him people are congregated, friends talking about the type of day they’ve had, work problems, relationship problems, just problems in general. He lifts his head slightly and he takes them in with a fleeting glance that decades of experience tell him all that he needs to know. He reaches for his glass and he takes a drink.

He’s still there an hour later and onto his third pint. Normally he’s okay, he can sink more than this before he feels the full effect but this time everything feels a little bit blurred around the edges. There’s a brunette sitting with a couple of her pretty blonde friends giving him come on signals with those eyes of hers that even he can see and interpret. He’s even mildly interested. Then he thinks of Shannon. She’ll be waiting for him, wondering where he is and he looks away and swallows more of his pint instead. Not tonight. It’s a pity because the brunette is a cracker to look at.

“Evening soldier.” He lifts his head at the figure that slides into the seat opposite him. He rolls his eyes and returns his attention to his drink again.

“Oh well thanks for that. It’s nice to be appreciated,” Herrick murmurs. Mitchell looks at him again.

“You’re like a bad penny Herrick, what do you want?” Herrick widens his eyes almost theatrically.

“What makes you think that I want something?”

“You’re here,” Mitchell retorts bluntly. Herrick pretends to look affronted.

“Can’t I even check up on my family once in a while John? Do you think I’m that heartless?” Mitchell stares at him and Herrick sighs. “Fine. You’ve been here for over an hour, shouldn’t you be at home with your lovely lady vampire?” He watches him and sees how he tenses at that.

“Go away,” Mitchell mutters.

“Oh that much fun eh? You never were the type to settle down and embrace domesticity. You either avoid any potentially serious relationships to begin with or failing that you just kill them.  This one is different, this one you recruited.” Mitchell looks away when he hears how his voice changes, the contempt dripping from it.

“The perfect solution soldier and _still_ you aren’t happy. I wonder why that is…oh could it be Jude Harper’s influence perhaps?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She’s your recruit Mitchell, _your_ responsibility and here you are sitting in a pub and avoiding going home, I wonder why that is. Could you be feeling a little bit…left out?” He slowly smiles at the anger he sees in his eyes. “Ouch.”

 Mitchell drains his pint and the look he sends him is lethal. “Tell me what you want Herrick or piss off, your choice,” he snarls at him. Herrick regards him for a moment, his expression assessing, unmoved.

“Remember the conversation we had a few months back about a certain Jimmy Fitzgerald? Well he’s part of our chapter, for now of course. He’s angling for your job.”

“He can have it,” Mitchell retorts. Herrick frowns.

“He’s not going to get it because I’m particular about who I have around me. Seth might not be the sharpest tool in the box but he’s loyal. You may be a moody contrary sod sometimes but again you’re loyal. This one isn’t and he’s beginning to annoy me.”

“So get rid of him, tell him to sling his hook, or hey, here’s an idea, end him yourself.”

Herrick slowly shakes his head. “Don’t you think I haven’t already considered the idea? While it’s very tempting, I don’t have a good enough excuse. You do though.”

“I’m not going to do your dirty work Herrick so don’t waste your breath,” Mitchell retorts.

“Even if I told you that he was the one who dragged your lady friend out of her flat and together with Eleanor Brennan delivered her to Edgar Wyndam?”

“He was there? How do you know he wasn’t just bragging?”

“Because he talked about her sweet little flat that’s why. He was there; indirectly he was responsible to what happened to your nurse.”  He moves forward in his seat. “I wouldn’t stand in your way if you decided to do something about that. Terrifying your girl like that, it really isn’t on. He was only too happy to tell us what went on in that house and how you all but cried like a baby.” It hits the intended target and Mitchell’s head snaps up and he sees the anger behind his eyes.

“Where is he?” Anger swells inside of him and it takes Herrick everything that he possesses not to grin in triumph.

“Where do you think he is? We can go now if you like, I’m sure you’d like to iron out some details with him.” Mitchell seems to pause and think. Then he shakes his head.

“Leave me alone Herrick, please, just go away.”

“You’re sitting here in a pub; you’ve been eyeing that brunette across the way there for the last half an hour. Why would you do that when you have Shannon at home, when you’re set up with Jude Harper, an Old One for that matter? It’s because you don’t belong with them. You thought that you did but you realise that you don’t.”

Mitchell looks at him.

“So I belong with you then, is that it?”

“I recruited you, I _recognised_ you. You could’ve walked away from me, from us at any time but you never did, never seriously. I’ve bided my time with you, allowed you to get all of _this_ out of your system but it’s not really working is it? You miss us far too much.” Herrick’s eyes glow vehemently with the knowledge that he’s right.

“I haven’t managed to get away from you because you won’t let me you wily old bastard, that’s why,” Mitchell hisses at him. Herrick’s eyes narrow.

“I had a visit from Wyndam around the time all your problems began. He wasn’t a happy chap at all. He wanted to know why I didn’t keep my vampires under stricter control, reminded me of the trouble you got into, got us _all_ into the last time I let go of the leash. He threatened me with all kinds of _retribution_ if I didn’t get you under control. He seems to think that I can do that,” Herrick muses and his smile is brief but cold. “Consider this your warning. Consider this me regaining control of you. You’ll get rid of Jimmy Fitzgerald tonight; you want to anyway, I remember that look in your eye of old. You’ll come back to the fold, I don’t care how or in what position but I want you back with us. People are scared of you; they’ll do what they’re told with you around.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Wyndam doesn’t know about the latest recruit. I think he’d be _very_ interested in her don’t you think? I remember how pretty she is; he’d _really_ appreciate a jewel like her wouldn’t you agree? One phone call and she’ll be his and we both know what he’s like.”

“You’re forgetting about Harper. He’s an Old One too.”

“I’m not afraid of him. He’s just one man, with an extensive network I grant you but one man all the same. Here’s an idea, your girl is a brand new vampire, volatile and impressionable so just imagine me letting her loose on humanity, she could join our chapter…I could teach her a few things she’d never forget.”

Mitchell regards him silently. He takes a breath and places his hands on the table between them; his clenched fists are the only outward sign of his anger. He stares at them for a moment before he slowly lifts his head to look at him.

“So let me get this straight; if I don’t re-join the _gang_ then you’ll tell Wyndam about Shannon, you’ll go after Harper or you’ll take Shannon for yourself is that it?”

“In a nutshell. Did I miss anything out?”

Mitchell leans towards him. “How about if I kill you? You wouldn’t know when or where but one day maybe I will.”

The amusement drains out of Herrick’s face.

“Oh I don’t doubt that for a minute soldier. If anyone is going to end me, I expect it to be you and only you,” he replies in a low voice. Mitchell’s expression sharpens and he leans forward very slightly in his seat.

“Then consider yourself warned.”


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to unravel...

**Chapter Twenty Seven.**

Mitchell emerges from the pub and he breathes against the anger and the weakness that churns inside of him. He breathes against the utter futility of it all. It threatens to smother him and drag him under completely.

“My car is this way.” He lifts his head when he hears Herrick speak and turns to regard him.

“Mine isn’t and I’m going home,” he retorts and even in the poor light he sees Herrick’s eyes begin to narrow.

“I thought I made myself clear earlier?”

“And you did and now so am I. It’s not happening tonight. It’ll happen when I think it’s right and not before. You can wait.”

Herrick regards him.

“No I can’t.”

“Well that’s just fucking tough because you’re going to have to. I have things to do first that have nothing to do with you.” He takes a breath. “I’ll be in touch and until I am, stay away from Shannon and Harper otherwise I’ll tell Fitzgerald what you have planned and I’ll be gone.” He sees the frustration in his sire’s eyes.

“Nothing is ever simple for you is it soldier? All right, I’ll wait to hear from you.”

Mitchell frowns.

“I mean it Herrick, stay away from both of them, if I even get a whiff of you getting in touch with Wyndam then it’s all over do you hear me?” He keeps his voice quiet but the threat is audible.

“Loud and clear,” Herrick replies.

* * *

 

He walks away and the anger still bubbles beneath the surface. He’s stone cold sober now. He sees everything with renewed clarity and it doesn’t make him any calmer. He needs to think things through, work out what if anything he’s going to say to Harper and Shannon. Just the thought of Wyndam knowing about her is enough to threaten to turn his knees to jelly. He reaches his car and pulls his keys out of his jacket pocket and its then that he becomes aware of footsteps. He’s been so lost in his thoughts that he hasn’t heard them until now. He spins around when he feels a hand come down onto his shoulder. His eyes flash a brief black but just as rapidly return to their usual colour when he sees the brunette from the pub standing in front of him.

“Jesus, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on a bloke like that?” he hisses. Her eyes are wide.

“I tried to get your attention before but you obviously didn’t hear me,” she responds defensively.

He frowns at her. “I wasn’t paying attention. What do you want?” It comes out bluntly and he sees the flash of hurt in her eyes.

“Well I was going to ask whether you wanted to go somewhere for a drink, somewhere else that it...” she begins. He pauses and regards her. He scans her face; pale flawless skin, big eyes and dark shiny hair that brushes her shoulders.  She’s really very pretty. He sighs raggedly.

“Sorry…it’s really not a good idea at the minute but thanks…”

“I saw you arguing with that bloke before, is he your dad or something?” She walks towards him and a slight smile plays along her lips. Mitchell regards her.

“Or something,” he murmurs and sees how she stops and she’s so close to him that he can feel the warmth of her skin, smell the somewhat faded scent of her perfume and hear the thrum of her pulse compete with her beating heart. He hones in on that and almost gets lost in it.

“You didn’t look very pleased to see him which was why I thought he was…” She touches him, strokes his upper arm. He watches the well-manicured hand slide up towards his shoulder and then slowly slide down to his elbow. She takes another more confident step towards him until she’s standing between his thighs. He leans back slightly and feels the car door press into his spine.

“I’m never happy to see him, whenever he shows up then trouble always follows. Like now.” She’s standing so close to him, her pulse is louder now; he can hear it hammering away inside of her. Is it anticipation making it do that? He’s often wondered. She leans towards him and her lips touch his. For a moment he lets her do all the work, allows her to try to seduce him. Then he reaches for her, his fingers curl into her slender waist and he tugs her towards him until she’s pressed up against him. She’s warm and sweet and sudden need pounds through him, igniting into a terrifying passion. Her arms slide around his neck and he feels her body rub up against his. All he can hear is her heartbeat hammering in her chest and her blood roars like a lion through her veins. He straightens slightly and turns and slams her up against the car door. He briefly hears her gasp as he buries his face in her neck and he feels how she clings to him. It sends a surge of something primal through him and he feels his eyes scorch again. He can feel his fangs erupt. Then he thinks of Shannon at home, waiting for him and he stiffens and pulls away. He turns his head away and he can feel the girl’s puzzlement at his sudden change of mood.

“What’s the matter?” she demands and he can feel the warmth of her skin, one of her hands is under his shirt, under his t-shirt, heat against cool skin. It feels too good, too tempting and he weakens for a second.

“You need to go,” he tells her in a low voice.

“But...but I thought…”

“I changed my mind.”

“Just like that?” She sounds incredulous. He can’t look at her; all he can think of is Shannon.

“Yeah.”

“But…”

“For fuck’s sake just piss off will you?” he snarls and he snaps his head back to look at her. She sees his black shiny gaze, she sees the fangs and her eyes widen with fright. She gasps and she blinks rapidly as if unable to quite believe what she has seen. He pushes her away from him and she staggers and then she’s running away, her heels skittering on the pavement. He watches her disappear into the shadows and he sighs and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and he turns to the car door again.

* * *

 

He lets himself into the house. He pauses just inside the door and he listens. Everything is quiet. Slowly, silently he exhales and he goes through the process of unhooking his bag from across his shoulders and unzipping his jacket. Fatigue slides through him and all of a sudden he craves a decent amount of sleep and Shannon’s arms around him. He turns his head towards the staircase and he wonders what she’s doing.

“It’s about time you showed up.” He flinches when he hears Harper’s voice and he looks at him as he hangs his jacket up.

“I didn’t realise I had a curfew.”

“You don’t but Shannon was expecting you home hours ago. Did you get the chance of some overtime?” There’s a slight challenge to his tone and Mitchell straightens slightly.

“No. I just fancied a drink, some time with my thoughts,” he answers in a low voice.

“I know. I can smell her on you.”

Mitchell frowns at him. “You’re not my mother Harper…”

“Understood…but Shannon has been waiting for you to come back all evening, she has something to tell you, something important. She went up to bed a couple of hours ago. A word of advice? Have a shower before you go to bed because she’ll smell that perfume on you from a mile off as well as see that bit of lipstick on your bottom lip.” Harper’s voice goes low and rough and Mitchell swallows when he sees the expression of disgust in his eyes.

“It wasn’t like that…”

“Then do please enlighten me on how exactly it was like Mitchell?” Harper retaliates instead and the sharpness of his tone momentarily silences him.

“I didn’t do anything. It was a moment of weakness. It won’t happen again.” His eyes slide from his face as Harper continues to regard him.

“Fair enough but understand this, Shannon _loves_ you. She loves you to the detriment of everything else. I think she’s only clinging on to all of this _because_ of you. Don’t you ruin it, don’t you hurt her.”

Mitchell frowns. “I didn’t ask for her to love me.”

“But she does anyway. You should be grateful; you should be on your knees and thanking everything special that she does because other than that you have _nothing_ going for you!” Harper hisses. Mitchell watches as he turns on his heel and stalks away. He sighs quietly and looks towards the stairs again.

* * *

 

Mitchell cautiously opens the bedroom door and peeps his head around. There’s a single lamp glowing and she’s lying on her side of the bed, an open book resting on her chest where it’s fallen ignored. He watches her for a moment, the dark red hair spilling across the pale pink pillowcase, the purple rose tattoo at the top of her arm. It still gives him a jolt to see it. He slips inside and quietly closes the door. As he does so she gives a little start and he watches her eyes slide open. She turns her head and looks at him and her smile is sleepy. He smiles back.

“Hey. Go back to sleep.” He keeps his voice low as he approaches the bed. She begins to sit up, closing her book and placing it on her bedside cabinet.

“No, it’s okay.” She looks at him. “You showered.” He looks down at the towel draped around his waist and he shrugs.

“Just felt scuzzy after my shift. Sorry I’m late.” He looks away and heads for the dressing table. Shannon watches him take out a t-shirt and a pair of jogging bottoms and slip them on.  She frowns and she sits more upright and regards him as he approaches the bed.

“How’s your day been?” he asks as he comes back towards the bed and climbs in beside her. She watches him and her expression changes very slightly, becomes a little bit pensive.

“It was…interesting. Did you get some overtime?” She watches him as he pulls the blankets over his legs. He glances at her.

“Yeah, it was pretty last minute. So what did you get up to?” He looks back at her and her eyes linger on his face for a moment longer. The frown begins to return

“It didn’t occur to you to call? Mitchell I’ve been waiting for you.”

“And we were rushed off our feet, Jesus I’m sorry okay?” He stiffens as she moves closer to him and she looks into his eyes.

“You never take a shower before bed, it’s late and…” Her eyes narrow suspiciously. She shifts and reaches out a hand. She cups the back of his head, her fingers sliding through damp dark curls and she kisses him. It briefly takes him by surprise. He reaches for her and she pulls away. He frowns at her. This flash of suspicion has knocked him a little off kilter and it unsettles him. She isn’t usually like this, she usually doesn’t question him.

“I had a bit of a breakthrough, that’s all. Harper and I went out for a walk and that was easier and we popped into a café for a cup of tea, one of the waitresses had an accident, she cut herself and I was able to treat her without wanting to…y’know…”

“Feed.” He watches her nod. He tries to smile but he still feels a little off balance.

“That’s really great to hear Shannon. It takes practice but you can keep control.”

“Harper told me that I’ll be able to do it without really having to think about it one day.” Her voice tapers off and he sees the wistful expression on her face.

 “And you will. It all takes time.” He looks at her, her smooth pale skin, the golden brown eyes and the dark fire of her hair. He thinks of Wyndam getting his hands on her, what he will do to her and he feels the fear tremble inside of him anew.

“Come on, it’s late.” He lies down and watches as she does likewise. She lies on her side and she regards him.  It makes him mildly uncomfortable.

“What?” he eventually asks and she smiles slowly.

“Nothing, I just like looking at you,” she admits and she moves closer to him, resting her head on his chest. His arm goes around her and he holds her close.

* * *

 

He wakes up suddenly with his breath catching in his throat. The shadows of anonymous nightmares lurk within the far reaches of his imagination but too tenuous for him to grasp onto. He turns his head and he sees Shannon sleeping with her back to him, huddled up and peaceful. He sighs quietly and stares back up at the ceiling. He slowly and carefully sits up and he slides out of bed.

He can smell paint and linseed oil and other stuff as he makes his way to the kitchen. The door into the conservatory is open and the room glows with light. Cautiously he steps through and sees Harper at work behind an easel. A radio plays quietly in the background and there’s a frown of utter concentration on his face. For a moment Mitchell remains still.

“It’s okay, you can come in, I know you’re there,” Harper calls. The two men look at each other. Harper is more distracted and dishevelled than usual and there is a streak of white paint across one cheek.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” Mitchell enquires and Harper shrugs one shoulder. He switches the radio off and looks at him once more.

“Sometimes.” Not often or unless he drinks himself into oblivion and Mitchell knows he hasn’t done that since the last time. He indicates the canvas.

“Can I look?” he asks.  Harper regards him for a moment. He slowly nods and takes a step backwards. He watches as Mitchell approaches the canvas. He looks at it for a moment, at the subject.

“Jessie.” Harper shrugs.

“Yes, do you have a problem with that?” There’s an undercurrent of a challenge in his voice and Mitchell looks at him.

“I don’t but Shannon might.”

“Oh you’d be surprised at what Shannon does or doesn’t have a problem with Mitchell and it’s not with Jessie, she’s made her peace with it all.”

“Has she now? she hasn’t said anything to me.”

“Because you haven’t been around much to listen to her that’s why,” Harper reminds him. Instead of responding Mitchell looks back at the picture. He can see that it’s Jessie with the blue black hair and the big blue eyes but she looks different in this shot, she looks happy, she looks…loved.

“What are those in her hair?” he asks.

“They’re flowers Mitchell, sweetpeas to be exact.” Mitchell glances at him and sees a flash of utter bereftness shift across his face. He blinks and it’s gone. He looks away from the half- finished painting and regards Mitchell instead.

“It’s three in the morning Mitchell…” Mitchell shrugs and moves away from the canvas. He goes to stand in the open door of the patio and he looks out onto the dark garden.

“Can’t sleep,” he confesses more to himself than anything.

“Anything to do with earlier?” Harper enquires and he straightens and widens his eyes marginally at the look he receives. “You disappear off the radar, come home late _reeking_ of perfume and alcohol and you’re down here keeping me company at insane o’clock, what else am I supposed to ask?”  he retorts. Mitchell sighs and shakes his head. He turns and goes to sit at one of the tables. There’s an open sketchpad on it and he can see little pencil sketches hastily scribbled on them. Harper can catch the essence of anything or anyone he chooses with just a few clever pencil strokes. He realises with a start that the page is covered with sketches of Shannon. He looks at him to see Harper regarding him steadily.

“Her face interests me,” he confesses with a restless shrug.

“Just her face?”

“What the hell does _that_ mean?” Harper retorts sharply, his eyes widening.  Mitchell gets to his feet.

“I don’t know, you’re the one drawing pictures of my…”

“Your what Mitchell, what _is_ she exactly? I think she’s under the impression that she’s your…what’s the expression these days, your partner…your lover? Which are you?” Harper’s tone is scathing and offended. He watches how Mitchell frowns and looks away.

“I can’t do this anymore Harper,” Mitchell admits in a quiet voice.

“Pardon me, can’t do what?”  Harper demands and he watches him lift sad eyes to his. A long moment ticks by and then Harper’s eyes slowly widen as the penny finally drops.

“You’re bailing out on us aren’t you?” he murmurs. Mitchell opens his mouth to speak, to deny no doubt but at the last minute he closes it. He bows his head instead.

“Jesus _Christ_ Mitchell…after _everything_ that has happened. You wanted her, you _fought_ for her, you recruited her and now you’re giving up?”

“You don’t understand….” His voice is low and distressed. Harper stares at him and he folds his arms.

“What don’t I understand here John? You have a roof over your head, you have a job, you have Shannon…isn’t that all you’ve ever wanted… _stability_?” His eyes widen. Mitchell lifts his head and he looks at him.

“You have to get Shannon away from Bristol; you need to take her far away.”

Harper frowns. “Why?”

“You just do. Believe me, get her out of the country, use your connections.”

He strides towards him and then stops in front of him. Harper’s mouth drops open.

“What the hell has happened?”

“While I’m here, neither you nor Shannon are safe,” Mitchell informs him and he watches the look of shock that crashes across Harper’s face.

“What? Who told you that? Don’t they know who I _am_?” he exclaims in outrage.

Mitchell nods.

“They know exactly who you are. Listen to me; you’re older and stronger than me. You can take Shannon away from here. You can help her and keep her safe. I can’t.”

“Maybe but there’s one big problem. She loves you and she will not leave you. She’d rather be in danger and with you than be safe and away from you.  Tell me who it is or I can find out and I can deal with it.”

“You can’t,” Mitchell grinds out, his whole body stiff with tension.  Harper unfolds his arms and regards him with a frown on his face.

“Why not?” he asks curiously.

“Because you already know who the threat is. A single phone call and it’s game over.” He watches how Harper’s eyes narrow as understanding dawns.

“Let him come.” His voice turns soft, low and very lethal.

Mitchell just shakes his head. “Shannon needs you Harper; she needs your strength to keep on this path she’s on. She’s doesn’t need me letting her down and failing her, she doesn’t need you distracted, she needs _you_ , someone good.”

“I can deal with Wyndam.”

“No you _can’t_. Listen to me, if you want to avenge Jessie then turn it into something positive. Look after Shannon and keep her safe, turn her into someone like you…forsaken and pure in this damned world we live in. The more of you like that then the stronger you get.”

“You could come with us.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Harper demands. Mitchell stares at him and he takes a slow deep breath.

“Because of Herrick. He wants me back in the fold and if I don’t go then he’ll contact Wyndam and he’ll tell him that Shannon is a vampire. You know that the moment he sees her then he’ll want her for himself to do whatever the hell he wants with her and he’s the worst one of all, we both know that. It’s why you’ve got to take her and get her the hell out of here and somewhere safe.”

“I’m not afraid of Herrick! He’s a fucking _clerk_ , an upstart!” Harper exclaims heatedly.

“He’s not afraid of you and that’s what makes him dangerous. You think he’s beneath you but you have to watch him, he’s sly and he’s mean and he always carries out his threats and his promises. Whichever way you look at it, if I don’t go back then Shannon is as good as ended. This way I can keep an eye on him. There’s no way out of this. He’s won.”

“No he hasn’t. Mitchell you can’t let him win!” he argues. He sees the defeat in his eyes. “Jesus!” His eyes widen when realisation dawns. “You’re letting him win, you _want_ to go back…what the hell for?” he demands. Mitchell shrugs.

“He made me. He’s the reason I stand here in front of you tonight. I guess I thought that I could leave and be my own man but in truth I was just kidding myself. I’ll always be weak. I’m not meant for this kind of life, living in a nice house with a nice girlfriend, it just isn’t me, it never has been and I was kidding myself when I thought that it was.” Mitchell pauses. He frowns and he swallows. “I’m not happy. I thought it was enough, those first few weeks once Shannon came around to her new life and began smiling at me again I thought for a little while that it was all that I wanted but y’know it wasn’t, not really. She’s a fantastic girl but I can’t do this to her. I’ll slip, I always do and I’ll drag her down with me and she doesn’t deserve that.”

“Oh _please_ Mitchell, if you truly meant that then you’d keep trying, you’d keep fighting but you’re just looking for an excuse aren’t you? Are you going to try to make her hate you because there’s nothing you can do that will make her do that.” Harper sneers at her.

“Why do you care?”

“Because when you break her heart which you undoubtedly will, I’ll be the one left to help her pick up the pieces. I’m going to be the one who has to convince her that staying clean is going to be worth it even though every inch of her will want to leave, to follow you and do _whatever_ you want her to, even if it means killing and feeding to keep you.”

Harper stands in front of him.

“You can’t do this Mitchell. You can’t do this to her or to yourself.”

“You can’t stop me.”

Harper sighs and pulls fingers through his hair making it stand up in distracted spikes.

“This is utter and pure _insanity_. I can put Herrick back in his box, he can’t hurt me.”

“No you can’t, you mustn’t. You need to take care of Shannon for me. Please, you _have_ to keep her safe. Get her out of here.”

“We could get her out of the country, like you said, I have connections. We could be in Paris by lunchtime.”

Mitchell’s eyes slide briefly shut. “You’re not listening to me. Please Jude, just do as I ask,” he begs. Harper goes still and watches him open his eyes and look at him.

“Shannon needs someone good in her life. Someone like you,” he whispers.

“You’re determined to do this aren’t you?” he states and Mitchell just nods. Harper sighs once more. He shakes his head as he turns his back on him.

“You have to tell her, I won’t let you just disappear into the shadows. You need to talk to her, tell her how you feel and mop up those tears because there are going to be a lot of those.” His voice is low and gruff sounding. Mitchell stares at his stiff back.

“Then you’ll do it. You’ll get her out of the country for a while, take care of her and…mentor her?” He watches as Harper spins around and glares at him.

“Do I have a choice? It should be you for fuck’s sake but yes. I’ll do as you ask.” He sees the relief flood his face.

“Thank you,” he breathes.

Harper’s expression doesn’t change.

“I still think you’re making a big mistake. You’ll go in there thinking you can still hold onto your sobriety but you won’t, you’ll fall; only this time it’ll be quicker and more catastrophic than ever.”

“You don’t know that.”

Harper huffs out a humourless laugh.

“Don’t I? I know you Mitchell. You’re walking away from a support network that could keep you straight and for _Herrick_?”

“No. I’m walking away for Shannon. I’m keeping her safe and you’ll understand that one day,” Mitchell retorts.

“And while I’m glad to hear that, how about you ask me my opinion instead?” Mitchell spins around when he hears Shannon’s strident tone and watches how she approaches him.

“Oh just wonderful…just what we need…another fight in the middle of the night,” Harper mutters, throwing his hands up into the air.

“Shannon…”

“Please, save me the gallant words.” She shakes her head. She turns and walks away, back into the kitchen. Mitchell follows.

“Shannon…” His hand touches her shoulder and she spins around.

“How could you do this to me Mitchell? You made me into this, you’re my sire, you’re _supposed_ to take care of me, guide me through all of this…you promised you’d be here for me, that you’d get me through this! ” Her voice rises with her anger.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He watches how she looks at him, at the dark angry expression in her eyes.

“ _Sorry_? Is that it?” she seethes. She makes a little noise in her throat as she spins once more and goes into the living room. There is a single lamp glowing and she strides into the centre of the room. She stands with her back to him and he can see her tension in the subtle trembling of her limbs.

“Harper is more capable than I am and you know it.” He walks towards her and then stops. Her shoulders are hunched and her head is down.

“He can protect you. He can do all the stuff that I’m supposed to do but he has more experience.”

“I don’t _need_ protecting Mitchell…not from anyone. I can take care of myself.” She slowly turns around and looks at him. “I could be with you. We could be together.” She takes a step towards him and then halts as he does the same but backwards. He sees the flare of pain in her eyes as she stares at him.

“Mitchell…” she whispers. Her eyes become shiny. She turns and sits down in one of the armchairs. He stares at her for a moment watching how she tucks her knees beneath her chin and wraps her arms around them.

“I don’t know if I can do this without you,” she confesses in a low voice and he feels the guilt churn inside of him. He approaches her and he kneels down by her chair and for a moment watches her.

“You can. You told me about the progress you made today.” She lifts her head very slightly and she glares at him.

“That’s just one tiny step!” she hisses and he shrugs.

“But it’s a tiny step in the right direction. You don’t need me Shannon; you don’t need me dragging you down to my…level. You’ll have Harper.”

“I don’t want Harper, I want you. I do need you and you _promised_ me Mitchell!”

“I know I did.” He turns his head and he sees Harper in the doorway, leaning against the jamb with his arms folded. He still has a streak of white paint across one cheek. He straightens up and enters the room and sits on the sofa. He leans forwards and clasps his hands loosely together.

“We need to protect you Shannon. You’ve been threatened and while I don’t agree with what Mitchell is doing, I understand why. If he didn’t care about you then he wouldn’t be asking me to help you, he wouldn’t be here trying to make you understand.” He keeps his voice low but his eyes don’t leave her face. “We can leave tomorrow. We can head onto the continent and be tourists. I have connections, places we could stay. It can be done and when things…calm down then we can return back here.”  He watches as she uncurls her legs and she straightens up. She looks at him and then wordlessly back at Mitchell.

“I don’t want to hear it. Just leave me alone the pair of you,” she snarls softly and she leaves.

* * *

 

He needs to get out of the house and be able to think. The expression on Shannon’s face has just about undone him. He hurts.

He’s not in the least bit surprised that he’s ended up back here. He looks up at the anonymous building. He listens to the deceptive quiet.

He’s in a murky frame of mind when he enters the building, the vampire base of operations for the Bristol chapter. The place is like a bee hive, always busy, there are always people around. He notices how they stop and stare at him and he can see their questions in their eyes.

Word still travels as fast as he remembers because Herrick appears barely minutes later and he smiles in open satisfaction upon seeing him standing there. The smile soon begins to fade at the expression on his face.

He doesn’t want to be here and it shows. He ignores the regulars who try to speak to him and that earns him a glower from Herrick. Mitchell glares back at him and Herrick quietly sighs.

“You could at least try to make an effort,” he mutters to him.

“I don’t have to try to do anything so back the fuck off,” Mitchell snarls back at him. Herrick rolls his eyes.

“Drink?” he suggests instead and heads towards his office. Mitchell pauses for a moment before following.

He stands inside of the room and he watches Herrick pour whisky into two squat cut glass tumblers. He glances up at Mitchell and wordlessly pushes one the glasses across his desk towards him. Mitchell approaches and he pauses and stares at the glass for what seems like an eternity. Different thoughts flash through his mind. If he accepts the drink then will that make his return official? Will Shannon and in turn Harper be safer if he did? What if Herrick goes back on his word? He really wouldn’t put it past the sly bastard. He reaches for the glass and then pauses. He lifts his eyes to him, his expression troubled.

“If I agree to come back here, you’ll leave Shannon alone, you’ll tell no one what she is?”

Herrick regards him for a long moment and then eventually, slowly he nods.

“You have my word soldier,” he replies quietly. Mitchell clenches his hand into a brief fist before he picks the glass up.

“If you go against your word Herrick then I promise you, I’ll disappear and you’ll never find me,” he tells him and Herrick watches him throw the drink back in one swallow. He places the glass on the desk once more. The look he directs at him is deadly as he turns on his heel and walks out of the office. Herrick looks down into his glass.

Controlling Mitchell. It’s an interesting thought in theory but in truth controlling him is like trying to control the tides.  He saw the gleam in his lieutenant’s eyes. He’s under no illusions, Mitchell doesn’t want to be here but he is and he has to be content with that. He takes a contemplative sip.

* * *

 

Mitchell’s stride slows as he sees the others all seated around a long narrow table. They’re talking and laughing and it all trickles away to silence when they see him approach. He sees Seth and Marco and one or two of the others he’s known since his own recruitment. There are some newer faces, names he’s going to have to get to know, personalities he’s going to have to learn how to gauge and there at the end of the table is Jimmy Fitzgerald. Mitchell pauses at the opposite end and he regards him. He sees how he lounges almost lazily in his chair and there’s a hint of a smile around his mouth as he stares at Mitchell. Mitchell swallows and then walks slowly along the length of the table.

“I know almost everyone sitting here, some I’ve known for a very long time, some not so long but you I don’t know but I hear you’ve been telling tales.” He stops beside Jimmy’s chair.

“Depends on the stories mate,” Jimmy replies. Mitchell’s eyes narrow very slightly at his conceit and he tilts his head to one side.

“About a visit to the flat of a friend of mine, you and a certain Old One. You both did something that you had no right in doing.”

“Oh and what would that be then John?” Jimmy asks and the insolence in his tone makes Mitchell straighten. A deathly hush falls across the room.

“Are you that _stupid_ that you need me to remind you? You dragged her out of her flat. You terrified her and gave her to Jessie and why, to teach me a lesson? It’s funny that you got out of that house and showed up here isn’t it?, which makes me wonder what you’re doing here?”

“Eleanor’s dead; Harper ended her at the house. Right before Wyndam knocked seven bells out of him,” Jimmy informs him and Mitchell is surprised that Harper didn’t tell him that she was gone.

“So you showed up here, rumour has it you’re after my job. What makes you think Herrick is interested in someone like you?”

“Because someone like you isn’t around anymore and someone has to keep things under control here.”

“So you thought you’d volunteer is that it? Well that’s really good of you _mate_ but unnecessary because I’m back in.” He takes another step towards him.

“For how long this time?” Jimmy jeers at him and Mitchell lunges for him. He grabs the front of his shirt and he hauls him to his feet. His chair topples backwards with a loud clatter. He vaguely hears the murmurs that ripple through the room. He turns, still holding onto Jimmy and he throws him across the room. Jimmy staggers and almost loses his balance. His recovery is awkward and inelegant. Mitchell strides towards him.

“You told Herrick and probably a few others that I was crying like a baby over the loss of Shannon, is that right?” he demands and Jimmy’s eyes go wide. Mitchell stops barely an inch away from him. He grabs him again and pulls him right up against him. He smiles coldly, viciously and slowly he nods.

“I don’t like being disrespected, I never have done, the last vampire who did that ended up with a poker through her chest. Now what do you think I could have planned for you?” He widens his eyes and sees the fear flare in Jimmy’s.

“Are you another one who thinks because I don’t feed then I’m weak? I’m sick of all of that because it’s not true you know. It really isn’t.” He swings Jimmy around and he throws him against the table. The other vampires scatter out of his way and watch the scene unfold from the edges of the room. Jimmy straightens up as Mitchell strides towards him again. He pushes him back down and pins him to the table with his hand around his throat.

“You’re an arsehole Jimmy. You come in here thinking you can step into _my_ shoes after what you did to _my_ girl? Jessie got hers and so did Eleanor but not you…you scuttled off like a fucking rat.” He leans over and pushes his face into his and sees the fear in their depths. It’s quite the boost seeing him shit scared like this.

“What does that say about loyalty Jimmy?  Apart from the fact that you don’t seem to have any.” He tightens his grip around his throat and he listens to him choke.

“The one thing that Herrick expects above everything else is loyalty. He needs to be able to trust without question and I don’t trust you. I don’t even like you.”  Mitchell reaches behind him and pulls something out of the back pocket of his jeans. “You hurt my girl Jimmy and I’m not the forgiving type,” he hisses into his face. Jimmy’s eyes widen with fear as he catches sight of the stake as Mitchell wields it. He rams it down into his chest, ignoring the crunching of bone and the rip of sinew and tissue. His face is expressionless as Jimmy gives a gasp and slowly crumbles to dust and smoke. He then takes a slow breath and takes a step backwards. He kicks the ashes from his boots and slowly turns. He sees the other vampires on the periphery, all watching him with the same wary expression in their eyes.

“Anyone else?” he yells and is greeted with silence. He turns and pauses when he sees Herrick standing in the doorway. Neither man speaks. Mitchell drops the stake and it clatters to the ground. He kicks it away. His eyes sweep the people present, a dark frown on his face.

“I want you all to listen and to pay attention. I’m back and there are going to be some fucking changes around here.”

* * *

 

She spends the day being angry. She’s angry at Mitchell and his high handed manner, she’s angry at him for the whole damned situation. She should’ve walked away from him in the cafeteria; she shouldn’t have agreed to go to the gig with him, to kiss him, to fall for him or to sleep with him. All it did was create chaos and unforeseeable complications. She feels rejected and abandoned. After all of that and still he wants to leave. He says that he’s doing it to protect her, like it’s the nineteenth century for fuck’s sake!

“Here.” She looks up when she hears Harper’s voice and a cup of tea appears in her line of vision. She looks back into his sombre blue eyes and then takes it from him.

“Thanks,” she murmurs.

“Have you thought about what I said earlier?” he asks. She turns her head and looks at him as he lowers himself onto the sofa beside her.

“I’ve done nothing but think Harper.”

“And?”

“What choice do I have in all of this?” She looks at him when she hears him sigh.

“Truthfully, you could walk away too, go your own way. Nobody is forcing you to do anything but if Wyndam hears about you then it’s game over. He will come for you.”

“Why? What’s so special about me?” she exclaims and Harper stills.

“It’s not you….it’s me. It’s because you’re with me. He will come after you and he’ll be utterly relentless. He took Jessie but I won’t let him take you.”

“Then why don’t you go after him, isn’t that what you wanted to do?”

“Once upon a time perhaps.” His expression clears as he looks at her once more and he smiles very softly. “We get along don’t we? There haven’t been any major personality clashes as far as I can tell so why not? I could show you Paris, Rome or even Vienna…have you ever been to Vienna? Gorgeous city!” She can’t help herself and she begins to smile at his enthusiasm.

“We could do it, be like tourists, come on, it could be amazing!” His smile widens when he hears her chuckle. Then just as abruptly it disappears.

“Yeah it could be,” she sighs.

“Mitchell wants you to be safe. He can be a heartless bastard sometimes….okay a lot of the time but he cares about you enough to want you safe.”

“He doesn’t love me, not enough anyway,” she murmurs miserably.

“That’s his loss. You love him, I can see that but in some cases when you love someone, the best thing you can do is to set them free, and isn’t that a song lyric or something?” She glances at him. Despite herself she laughs again and tears spring to her eyes. She looks away and swipes at them almost guiltily. She looks back at him and he sees the traces of them on her cheeks. His smile melts away and his eyes shine with sympathy.

“Maybe he’ll come back?” He hears the hope in her voice and he slowly shrugs.

“Maybe he will,” he agrees but privately they both know that he probably won’t.

* * *

 

She can hear him moving around in their room.  She taps on the door and slowly goes in. He’s standing beside the bed and pushing clothes into a medium sized case. His head lifts and when he sees her he pauses. He glances down at his clothes for a moment.

“Shannon…I…” She stares at the case for a moment and all she can think of right then and there is that he’s finally leaving her. It hurts. She swallows against a burgeoning lump in her throat.

“No. It’s okay,” she whispers and then she takes a breath. She won’t cry. Not now. She makes herself smile instead.

“Harper and I are going…he’s promised to show me Europe. We’re going to drive around, drink lots of wine, eat lots of food, see some amazing art, architecture and history. His words.” The smile begins to wobble when she thinks how she wishes he was coming with them. She takes a shaky breath instead. “Apparently it’s going to be quite the adventure. Again, his words.” Her voice becomes traitorously husky. He stares wordlessly at her. She takes another deep breath and she skirts the bed and pauses beside him.

“There are times when I wish circumstances had been different but they aren’t and like you’ve said, it’s done and I have to accept it and get on with it.” She reaches for his hands and she winds her fingers around his. He glances down at them but remains silent. “I love you Mitchell despite it all and I want you to promise me that if you should ever come to a point in your life that everything gets too much…or too dark that you’ll think of me and come find me. Will you?” She lifts her eyes to his face and sees the expression in his eyes. After a moment he just nods. His eyes look suspiciously shiny. He swallows.

“Say it,” she whispers and feels emotion swell and threaten to choke her. She hears him take a breath.

“I promise,” he whispers back. She smiles and tears splash onto her cheeks. She stands on tiptoe and kisses him. It’s gentle, a farewell but he lets go of her hands to grasp her upper arms and pull her close to him. She feels want swell up and her hands reach for his face, her fingertips tracing the rough dark stubble on his cheeks and she can taste salt. She pulls her mouth away from his with a suddenness that makes him gasp. She looks into his eyes and she sees his tears now. She smiles softly once more, presses another single kiss on his mouth and she turns and hurries out. He watches her leave. A heavy ragged breath escapes his lungs and his hands rise to cover his face. They stay there for a moment and before they lower, he wipes his face and by the time they drop, all emotion is gone.

* * *

 

The final case is loaded into the boot of the car. Shannon stares up at the house for a moment before getting in to the passenger seat.

“You okay?” Harper enquires softly. She looks at him and she smiles a tremulous, hopeful smile.

“I will be,” she replies.

 

 

 

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. It's ten years later and Shannon receives a visitor... 
> 
> Set around the events of the season three finale...

**Chapter Twenty-Eight:**

**Epilogue.**

**_Ten Years Later._ **

Shannon eyes the new arrival cautiously. Where he has come from is anyone’s guess but he arrives on their doorstep soaking wet, bone cold and shaking. He’s deathly pale and emaciated, his face bloodied and bruised. Exhaustion clings to him like a shroud.

She watches how he takes in his surroundings. They’re in a day room of sorts. It’s a large rectangular room filled with mismatched furniture. Magazines are piled neatly in the centre of the coffee tables dotted around; equally mismatched coffee mugs are freshly washed on the draining board. The television is switched off.  There is no one in the room apart from them.

Dry clothes are found for him and Shannon waits for the visitor to return. She makes herself a cup of tea and is lifting it to her lips when the door opens and he’s back. He looks a little better, the clean jeans and sweatshirt are an improvement on the clothes he arrived in earlier. His face is still scraped and raw looking, oozing blood.

“Take a seat.” She keeps her voice low and non-threatening but he still eyes her warily. She puts her cup on the draining board and slowly turns. She glances at Jonathan, one of her assistants who stands beside the door, ready to help if necessary. She returns her attention to the new arrival and approaches him.

“My name is Shannon Parker. You’re perfectly safe here. Will you let me take a look at your face?” She watches how his eyes wheel almost wildly around the small room.

“You’re Harper’s friend aren’t you?” His words come out in a bit of a rush. Shannon nods.

“I am. Who are you?” The new arrival continues to fidget. He lifts a hand and worries a fingernail. Shannon guesses that he’s very close to going into withdrawal.

“Jack. I’m Jack.”

“Okay…Jack. Why don’t you have a seat and tell me how you got here. We’re not exactly in the phone book.” With a hand she indicates an armchair nearby and watches as he cautiously lowers himself down onto it. She glances at Jonathan again. She looks back at Jack and she smiles softly at him.

“How about some tea first?” she suggests.

* * *

 

She hands him the cup and sits opposite him. His injuries are starting to heal and his face doesn’t look so battered. He’s of average height with grubby blond hair and greenish hazel eyes.

“I heard about you that’s all, you’re not exactly a secret in the community y’know,” he begins and he takes a mouthful of his drink. Shannon waits.

“All hell is breaking loose in Bristol right now…ever since Herrick went…and then someone had a vendetta against the vampires…blew up the funeral parlour…dozens of them were killed or badly injured…it was chaos.” Shannon pauses as she absorbs what he’s telling her. She frowns.

“Herrick _went_?”

Jack nods rapidly. “The story is he was torn apart by a werewolf, a werewolf called _George_.” He flicks a glance at Shannon and almost smirks. “A fuckin’ dog, imagine that…called George.” This time he does smirk and he chuckles to himself for a moment. Shannon continues to wait.

“What happened to John Mitchell?” she asks.

“Who?” Jack blinks at her and she barely refrains from rolling her eyes.

“Mitchell, he’s Herrick’s second in command,” she clarifies and she sees how his brow crinkles for a moment. He then shakes his head.

“I dunno, it was chaos.  Like I said, all hell  broke loose. It got in the papers, blood, carnage and revenge…”

“What got in the papers?”  Jack’s eyes go wide with disbelief.

“Didn’t you hear? On the train…it was awful and then it wasn’t. Wish I’d been there to see it.” He grins to himself once more but it quickly vanishes and Shannon watches it be replaced by what can only be described as pure fear. He lifts his face to hers.

“It got the wrong kind of attention and now there’s going to be trouble, huge unwanted trouble.” His eyes fill with anxiety and he scrambles to his feet. Shannon follows and watches as he looks around him.

“Jack, what’s the matter? No one can hurt you in here, you’re safe.” Jack’s head snaps around to look at her.

“You don’t understand. The worst kind of trouble is coming… _retribution_. Retribution is coming…you have to hide, we _all_ have to hide.”  Shannon slowly turns to look at Jonathan and he surreptitiously shrugs.

* * *

 

She leaves Jack with Jonathan and returns to her little office. She sits behind her desk and stares into space for a few minutes as her brain digests everything Jack has shared with her.

The train, it’s all the media are talking about even two months later. Twenty people were killed aboard a train carriage. The reports say they were ripped apart, eviscerated and drained of blood. The drained of blood part in particular captured her attention. She wondered whether it was down to vampires and if that was the case why would vampires do something that would attract this amount of attention?  Jack has more or less confirmed her suspicions.

_The worst kind of trouble is coming…retribution. Retribution is coming and you have to hide, we all have to hide._

It sits uncomfortably with her. She pulls her phone out of the front pocket of her jeans and stares at it for a moment.

She hits the speed dial and listens.  She groans quietly when she gets his voice mail instead.

“Jude it’s me, please call me back as soon as you get this message. I think something is up, something bad and I think it’s connected to the Box Tunnel thing the press are all over at the moment. It could be something, it could be nothing but I’m concerned and I think you need to hear it. Wherever the hell you are, just please… call me. Bye.” She disconnects and drops her phone onto the desk.

* * *

 

She’s utterly exhausted. Every muscle in her body aches. She emerges from the interior of the building and she looks up at the inky night sky. It’s stopped raining for now and a chilly breeze teases her hair and she supresses a shiver. She takes a breath and pulls her car keys out of her shoulder bag and she walks to where her car is parked.

Harper hasn’t called her back. She isn’t really surprised because if he’s involved with a project then he tends to lose all sense of time. It can be annoying but it’s Harper. What annoys her more is that he’s incommunicado today when she really needs to talk to him.

She gets into her car and for a moment just sits there. The phrase Jack used bothers her. Retribution is coming? What or who does he mean? She turns her head towards the house and frowns. He’ll be settled down for the night under Jonathan’s careful observation otherwise she’d go back in and ask.

She starts the engine and the radio springs to life. She slowly makes her way out of the grounds of the driveway of the remote farmhouse which is her place of work and is situated a good distance outside of the city limits. It’s a half hour trip back to the Vicarage and where her hoped for wine, bath and television await her.

She usually likes the drive back home. It usually helps her process the events of the day and think about what, if anything can be improved upon. Harper usually calls or emails once a month generally like clockwork for progress reports and to keep tabs on her. He coats his concern with chat and funny stories and anecdotes but she’s known him for over ten years now and it warms her that he still cares. Recently the contact hasn’t been so regular, come to think of it, it’s been several weeks since she last heard from him. She won’t get too concerned just yet. He’ll be caught up with his art or something equally important and he’ll remember and phone or email her full of abject apologies.

It begins to rain again and she sighs and switches on the windscreen wipers. She drives carefully and within the speed limit. The last thing she needs to do is to draw unwanted attention towards herself. All she can hear is the swipe of the wipers and the gentle patter of the rain hitting the windscreen.

She switches off the radio and drives back home with the sound of the rainfall as company. She keeps her eyes open, she remains vigilant. The last thing she wants to do is to attract unwanted attention.

* * *

 

Finally the gates to the Vicarage come into view and she sighs with relief. The weather has been getting steadily worse, the rain becoming heavier with each passing moment. She drives slowly and carefully along the drive and she parks her car where she always does, in front of the house and she switches off the engine. All she can hear now is the sound of the rain rattling noisily off the roof of her car, she watches it slide and run down the windscreen and the side windows and she sighs and reaches for her bag. If she makes a run for it then she hopefully won’t get too wet.

She takes a deep breath and gets out of the car. She locks it and skirts quickly around the bumper, holding her bag over her head like an ineffectual umbrella.

“Shannon.” She stops in her tracks when she hears the voice, _that_ voice. She lifts her head slightly and she sees him standing on the doorstep huddled against the rain. Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open. She lowers her bag.

“Mitchell?” she whispers in shock. Her eyes go even wider when she realises that she isn’t hallucinating and he really is standing on her doorstep, soaked to the skin.

“Jesus, Mitchell.” She hurries towards him and she throws her arms around him. She hears him sigh against her ear and his arms go around her waist. His hair is wet against her cheek and he smells of cigarette smoke and rain. She draws back and looks at him. He’s brutally pale with dark shadows bruised beneath both eyes.

“Come on in,” she invites as she steps away from him and goes to the front door.

He seems to hesitate as she steps over the threshold and she halts and looks at him, a mild frown on her face. He doesn’t need an invitation.

“Come inside,” she reminds him and after a moment he steps across the threshold.

She goes around him and closes the door and for a moment it’s all she can do to just look at him.

“It’s good to see you again Mitchell,” she tells him and it is, it’s wonderful to see him again but she has a sneaking suspicion there’s a reason why he’s here. He glances at her and smiles faintly.

“And you too Shannon, you haven’t changed a bit.” She smiles at his compliment.

“Can I stay here for a few days?” he asks.

“Of course you can.” She glances down at her feet and there’s a mild smile on her face as she glances up at him.

“We’re dripping all over the floor.” She begins to shrug off her jacket. Her shirt clings damply to her spine. She hangs her jacket up and watches Mitchell do likewise. She waits and as he turns to look at her, she goes into his arms once more and she hugs him tightly again. Initially he stiffens with surprise before she feels his arms slide slowly around her waist once more. She looks at him and her smile fades.

“You look awful,” she breathes.

“After ten years is that all you can say?” She hears the barest trace of humour behind his words but it doesn’t quite ring true.

“You look exhausted Mitchell, like you haven’t slept for months.” She looks into his eyes. They seem hollow somehow and so weary. She takes his hand. “Come on, we need to dry out. Have you eaten?”

“Ummm…no I haven’t,” he admits. To be truthful food has been the last thing on his mind recently.

* * *

 

His eyes take in his surroundings. Everything is as he essentially remembers it to be except that it’s had a lick of fresh paint and the fixtures and fittings seem more up to date. He pauses in the kitchen. She lets go of his hand and watches how his eyes take everything in. They pause on the door that leads to the conservatory and he walks slowly towards it and he pauses. She goes to stand beside him.

“Is Harper here?” he enquires.

“No.” He looks at her and he frowns. “He keeps a watchful eye over me Mitchell but that’s all he does. He doesn’t babysit me anymore, he doesn’t need to. I’m not helpless.”

“Where is he?” He watches how she shrugs.

“Last I heard from him he was in Italy, raving about the Amalfi coast and its amazing light, scenery and food. He gets lost in his projects and I usually don’t hear from him for weeks on end.”

“So you’re here by yourself?”

“For now,” she replies carefully. She takes a breath. She turns and heads into the kitchen where she picks up a kettle, fills it with water and then switches it on.

He hasn’t seen her for ten years but it doesn’t mean that he hasn’t thought of her. He has done, he has thought of her often, wondering how she is and what she’s doing and he has hoped that she doesn’t hate him. She’s remained his secret; he hasn’t talked about her to anyone, not even to George or Annie. She remained locked away deep inside of him, to be brought out and thought about in his most private of times.

Her hair is longer, much longer than he remembers. It falls over her shoulders and between her shoulder blades and it’s still that fiery dark red. She’s slender but with those curves that he remembers. He slowly walks towards her and he sits at the kitchen table. He doesn’t speak as she makes tea and after a few minutes she places a mug in front of him. She watches him, sees how he trembles.

“You’re soaked through and you’re shivering; you need to get out of those wet clothes. I’m sure Jude has something he won’t mind you borrowing.”

“I doubt we have the same taste in clothes…” Mitchell begins. Shannon tilts her head to one side as she regards him.

“Oh I don’t know, you’d be surprised. You can’t stay in what you’re wearing…”

“Well it’s not like I can catch my death now is it?” and he watches how she rolls her eyes.

“Obviously but it can’t be comfortable. Drink your tea, I’ll sort something out.”

“It’s okay Shannon.” He captures her wrist as she walks past and she halts and looks down at it and she frowns at how his grip tightens.

“Mitchell…don’t be silly. Jude won’t mind.”

“That’s the second time you’ve called him that tonight,” he comments and she frowns at him.

“Because it’s his name, what else should I call him?” she enquires, puzzled. Mitchell sighs but doesn’t answer. Carefully Shannon pulls her hand free of his and she regards him.

“He’s my mentor, he has only _ever_ been my mentor Mitchell and not that it’s any of your business but you were the one who threw us together in the first place for my own protection I seem to remember.”

He looks away.

“I know and I’m sorry. Hard habit to break,” he mutters. Shannon sighs and she sinks down onto the chair beside him, her previous mission forgotten as she looks into his eyes.

“Mitchell, what’s going on…I don’t hear from you for over a decade, not a whisper and now this?” Slowly he lifts his face to hers. His eyes are scared and that alarms her. The John Mitchell she knew was never scared.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. She reaches for him and her eyes widen with apprehension as all of a sudden he jumps to his feet.

“Y’know…It was a bad idea me coming back here…I’m sorry Shannon…” He walks out of the kitchen and for a second or two she remains where she’s sitting, her brain whirling. She gets to her feet and she hurries after him.

“Mitchell…” she calls out and she catches up to him as he reaches the door. “Hey…where do you think you’re going?” She grabs his arm and he freezes but he doesn’t look at her.

“Away from you. You’re settled, I have no right coming here and upsetting everything.” His voice is low and tight.

“Mitchell, you’re welcome, you’re always welcome here. Come back inside.” She tightens her grasp on his arm and he looks at her. His face is so haunted, so devastated that it begins to scare her.

“Something is troubling you, enough for you to come back here but right now it’s not important. Come on, finish your tea and I’ll make us some dinner. It’s been a long day.” Gently she leads him back to the kitchen and once more he goes willingly.

“I’ve done something terrible Shannon,” he whispers as he slowly, tiredly lowers himself back into a chair. She crouches down in front of him and she looks up into his face. He’s pale and so wretched looking. She reaches for his hands and holds them tightly. She squeezes them, anything to try and stop them shaking.

“Tell me,” she whispers back and his eyes meet hers. They’re almost feverish.

“Do you hate me Shannon, for what I’ve done to you, for what I turned you into?” He sees the shock flare in her eyes and her mouth falls open for a second. Then she shakes her head.

“No…I’ve don’t hate you, Mitchell I could never do that.”

“You also said that you’d never forgive me for what I did.”

“And I’ve had time to come to terms with it all and I forgive you, I forgive you for all of it. For God’s sake just tell me what’s wrong,” she beseeches. She hears him take a huge gulp of air and swallow. She hears a low sound of anguish in his throat and her hands tighten on his.

“It was in the press, on the telly…the train…oh God.” She watches him, sees the pain in his eyes. It takes a moment for it to sink in. Slowly she lets go of him and her eyes widen.

“The Box Tunnel killings…” she breathes in horror. She watches how his eyes flood with tears.

“Yeah. That was me… and Daisy, another vampire,” he confesses his voice barely audible. She listens as her legs give and she sits heavily on the tiled floor.

“Why?”

“I have no excuses any more…At the time I believed that humanity had kicked me down once too often and it was revenge but in truth I’m weak and just looking for an excuse. Stuff happened Shannon, someone I cared deeply about…died. Someone I thought I could have a future with betrayed me in the worst possible way. People used me for their own ends; I didn’t know who I could trust anymore. Friends died because of what they are, because they were vampires.” She stares at him and sees the tears boil over and slip down his cheeks.

“I should’ve stayed here with you, I wish to God that I had now,” he whispers once more.

“And how do you know if anything would’ve been different? You left because you weren’t happy and in turn you did me a favour.” She kneels up and she wraps her arms around him. He rests his head against her shoulders and she hears his ragged breathing.  “You’re safe here Mitchell, you need to get your head together and think about what happens next.” She draws back as she feels him lift his head. She looks into his eyes and smiles kindly. He wipes at his face.

“I thought you’d…”

“What… kick you out? You’re my _sire_ Mitchell,” she reminds him in a soft voice.

“But…”

“Hush…you’re exhausted and you probably haven’t slept properly for days.” Slowly she gets to her feet.

“I’ll fix us something to eat.” It isn’t an invitation or a request as she goes to the fridge and she extracts a single bottle of wine. She goes through the routine of opening it, leaving it on the bench to breathe as she looks for a couple of glasses. She pours some of it into a glass and she turns and looks back at him.

Mitchell hasn’t moved. He’s staring around the kitchen again and she can almost see the thoughts tumbling around inside of his head scrambling for purchase. He looks almost dazed. She walks towards him. Her legs feel slightly rubbery as if not quite able to support her weight. The Box Tunnel Murders, the subject of intense media speculation had been committed by her sire. Once more she crouches down in front of him and wordlessly she hands the glass to him. She should feel revolted, disgusted, _something_ negative but she doesn’t. As she’s said to him, he’s her sire. That has to count for something.

“Once we’ve eaten then we’ll talk some more. I’m going to get you a change of clothes and you’re going to use them okay?” She keeps her voice low but her tone brooks no argument and mutely Mitchell nods. She straightens once more and leaves.

* * *

 

She enters Harper’s bedroom which is at the top of the house and away from everywhere else. It has a small ensuite bathroom attached. When he’s home he can be in here for days. She barely glances around as she goes to his built in wardrobe space and slides open the doors. She finds a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt and a black and red checked shirt. She holds them up and regards them speculatively. Harper is maybe an inch or two taller and Mitchell’s shoulders are slightly wider but there should be enough give in them to fit him. She sighs and her eyes slide around the room. The walls are painted a pale restful blue and on one wall is a painting of Jessie, one of his own creations. All she seems to be wearing is a white sheet but her hair is pinned up and decorated with little purple flowers. Every time she looks at it, she’s reminded of what Harper lost. As far as she’s aware he hasn’t shown interest in anyone since Jessie’s death but then again neither has she since Mitchell’s departure ten years ago.

The empty wine glass is on the kitchen bench but the room itself is unoccupied. Shannon experiences a moment of panic and she turns, the dry clothes she’s chosen for him clutched in her hands. Would he just confess and leave like that?

“Hey.” An audible sigh of relief escapes her when she hears his voice and sees him come in from the conservatory.

“Just wanted to get some air,” he tells her, indicating the open patio door behind him and she smiles ruefully at him.

“And have a quick cigarette?” she queries and he just shrugs in response. She holds the clothes aloft.

“These should fit, you’re about the same size…though you may just shade him in the shoulder department.” She walks towards him and hands him the clothes. “You can change in my room, it’s still the same one.” After a moment she watches him leave.

She sighs raggedly and pulls fingers through still slightly damp hair and she drops her hands and straightens her shoulders. He still unsettles her after all of this time. She pours herself a glass of wine and downs a healthy slug. She puts the glass back down on the bench and she briefly closes her eyes and inhales and then exhales. She opens her eyes and stares blindly at the wall for a moment, trying to gather scattered thoughts. She can do this, whatever Mitchell needs her to be or do, she can do this for him.

When Mitchell reappears, Shannon is making dinner as promised. He feels hesitant and for a moment he stands awkwardly, wondering what to do or say next. She seems to sense his presence as she suddenly looks over one shoulder at him. She smiles briefly.

“Come and keep me company. Tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself,” she invites. He straightens and slowly approaches her.

“Shannon…I just told you about something horrific that I did…” he begins. She looks at him again.

“I know. I thought we talked about that. What do you want me to do, demand that you have yourself arrested, insist on punishment, call for retrib….” Her words stutter to a halt and Mitchell watches the strangest expression cross her face. She takes a breath and seems to shake herself out of whatever thoughts have overtaken her. She looks at him, takes in his clothes and she smiles at him.

“You see, not much difference in size between you both.” She indicates the clothes he’s now wearing and he glances down at them. “I’ll put your stuff in the tumble dryer and they should be okay by tomorrow.” He looks back at her.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

* * *

 

Dinner passes quietly. They eat and drink wine but they don’t talk. Both seem to be lost in their thoughts. Eventually Mitchell puts down his fork and he pushes his plate away and he looks at her. Slowly Shannon does likewise, watching as Mitchell reaches for his glass and takes a mouthful of wine. She reaches for his plate as well as her own and she gets to her feet and carries them to the sink. She leaves them on the draining board.

“You seem to have a good life here Shannon, did you go back to nursing?”

She slowly turns and looks at him. He’s still seated, rolling the stem of the wineglass between his fingers. He lifts his eyes to hers.

“Of a kind. I thought about it but then Jude set up the Mayhew Centre.” She sees how Mitchell’s eyes sharpen.

“The what…what’s that?” She hears the disdain in his tone and it rankles with her.

“Mock it all you want Mitchell but it’s having an effect, we’re doing some good.”

“So this is how Harper’s recruiting to his cause?” Slowly he stands up and he slowly walks towards her, the now empty wineglass held loosely in one hand.

“It isn’t a _cause_ Mitchell; it’s a lifestyle choice if you want to call it anything. Jude had the idea once we got back from our jaunt in Europe. He bought the property and set it up and I help to run it and we do some good. We help those who don’t want to feed.”

“For how long? I’m sure once they leave you that they’re full of good intentions but then they’re tested, they’re pushed too far and then all of a sudden they’re back at square one.”

“And for some it sticks, it works for them. They’re not all like you Mitchell.” He pauses in front of her and he looks into her eyes. She holds his gaze and after a moment he looks away and instead hands her the empty glass.

“It stuck with you? You haven’t slipped, you haven’t been tempted?” His voice lowers.

“It stuck and no I haven’t. I had a good mentor.” Mitchell slowly frowns and then takes a step back.

“Good for you Shannon,” he mutters and nods.

* * *

 

 Shannon drags two bottles of beer out of the fridge and she opens them and hands one to him.

“I want to know something,” she begins and she sits back down beside him at the kitchen table.

“What?”

“Why did you come back here, back to me?” She watches him carefully and sees how he briefly glances away.

“Because I think you’re the only person I can trust right now,” he confesses. She frowns.

“Really… after ten years of radio silence? Didn’t you trust Herrick…oh that’s right he’s dead isn’t he, like properly dead?” She sees the look of surprise that crosses his face.

“We may not have seen each other in over a decade Mitchell but our paths cross in other more obscure ways. Someone at the Centre happened to mention it and I read and pay attention. I wondered about the train incident and I’ve had it confirmed to me twice that I was right.”

“I never trusted Herrick completely, not after I went back.”

“Well he didn’t contact Wyndam as far as I’m aware.”

“He had me back in the fold, he saw no reason to. Then after a while it had no power, you were out of the country and under Harper’s protection and he didn’t know where you were.”

“So you left him again?” She watches him nod.

“Made a real go of it too, shared a house, a pink house in Totterdown with a werewolf and a ghost. George was my best friend.”

“George…” That name sounds familiar.

“A werewolf would you believe it, I was sharing a house with a werewolf and it was…pretty amazing actually.” He smiles very faintly before it disappears. He looks at her. “I trusted him. I still do.” He stares at his beer bottle and then takes a mouthful.

“But….”

His expression darkens and she recognises it.

“But I fucked it up. Again. I got out of there before I made things worse.”

“When the going gets tough then you bail, it seems to be a theme,” Shannon comments and his eyes gleam as he looks at her again. She waits for his reaction, his denial but a moment passes and he’s silent.

“Yeah, seems to be,” he concedes.

“It was your friend who killed Herrick.”

Mitchell nods. “The first time….” He watches how her eyes widen with shock and confusion.

“The _first_ time, how many times does it need to happen?” she breathes. Mitchell just shakes his head.

“Too complicated but he’s ended now, he won’t be coming back again.” His eyes drift back to his beer bottle and the silence is heavy.

“You killed him. You killed your sire, isn’t that not allowed?”

“It’s frowned upon I suppose but no, not disallowed. It had to be done…” He frowns as his voice fades away. He looks at her and attempts to smile. “I came here to see you Shannon, see how you’re doing and all of that; I didn’t come here to talk about me. I can see that you’re okay, that you’re settled. That’s good.”

She smiles at him. “I am.”

“If I’d stayed then I would’ve dragged you down Shannon. I wouldn’t have made you happy.” He keeps his voice low and after a moment she slowly nods in agreement.

“Yeah, I can see that now.” He leans closer to her and with one hand reaches out and touches her face, he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“You’re probably the only good thing I ever did,” he whispers and she rolls her eyes.

“Oh I don’t know about that,” she half laughs but feels breathless at the feel of his fingers against her skin once more.

“You are. Look at you; you’re doing something good with your life. You’re a success.”

“A successful vampire, who’d a thunk right?” Her laughter is breathless and nervous and it dies in her throat when she sees how his expression intensifies.

“I don’t want you to let go of that okay? Keep at it, keep helping hopeless wretches like me.”

She frowns very slightly. “You’re not hopeless Mitchell…” Her voice lowers to a whisper and she watches him slowly nod.

“Yeah. I am,” he whispers back. He leans towards her and he presses a kiss on her mouth.

In that instant she’s lost again.

* * *

 

The bedroom is darkened and filled with shadows. Shannon lies on her side and she stares at him. His skin is so pale that it almost gleams in the partial light. Dawn is just beginning to peek over the horizon. She hasn’t slept a wink, she doesn’t dare to.  Mitchell stares back at her. She reaches out a hand and she touches him, her fingertips scraping against the dark stubble. His skin is cool to her touch.

“I want you to stay Mitchell,” she whispers.

“Why?” She hears his surprise.

“Why not? Call it a fresh start. We could move, set up somewhere together just the two of us and just be. We could go anywhere you want.” It sounds like a daydream even to her ears. She hears him sigh.

“Ah Shannon…I dunno….”

“At least think about it. Promise me that you’ll at least consider the idea. Stay here at the house for a while. You can think about what to do next. I just don’t want you to leave me.” _Again._ Another silence stretches out between them.

“Get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning,” he tells her in a low voice. She lifts her head slightly and stares into his eyes.

“Promise me you’ll still be here when I wake up.”

“I promise.”

* * *

 

The sun is high and bright in the sky and it jabs insistently at her eyelids. Shannon frowns and pulls the duvet over her head. Slowly consciousness impinges and her eyes slide open. She pushes the duvet back down and stares up at the white painted ceiling. She then turns her head and she sees that the bed is empty. There’s just an imprint of his head on the pillow. She jacknifes upright and looks around the room. She sees the jeans, the white t-shirt and the black and red checked shirt draped somewhat neatly across the bottom of the bed. She frowns.

“Mitchell?” she calls and she listens. Silence answers. She climbs out of bed and she shrugs on her dressing gown.

She looks around the house, she investigates every room. They’re empty. It was like he was never here.

Maybe he’s gone for a walk? Maybe he’s gone to get some breakfast? Explanations to his absence tumble around inside of her head.

The cupboards are full of food and her car keys are missing.

Her legs feel weak as she lowers herself onto a kitchen chair as realisation dawns.

He’s gone.

* * *

 

Her phone is ringing as she returns to her bedroom. Her throat feels thick, her chest heavy with tears. Hope gives her haste as she hurries into her bedroom.

It takes her a moment to find her jeans from last night and the ringing of her phone seems to mock her. Finally she finds it and she sees Harper’s name on the screen. She sighs and slumps onto her bed.

“You took your bloody time!” she snaps. There’s a brief silence.

“Sorry. Been busy.”

“So I gather,” Shannon snipes and she can just about hear his surprise.

“Have I said something to upset you? I got your messages. I know about the Box Tunnel murders, that they’re vampire related.”

“It was Mitchell,” she tells him and there is more silence as he seems to digest this.

“And you know this how exactly?”

“Because he was _here_. He confessed to me Jude.” She feels tears crowd her eyes and she brushes them away.

“Is he still there?” His voice fills with urgency.

“No…” Shannon breathes out and her voice trembles and she swallows. “No he isn’t and he took my fucking car. He said that he lived in Totterdown; that he shared a pink house with a werewolf and a ghost. Maybe he’s gone back there?”

“No he’s not, none of them are there. They headed for Wales just after the Box Tunnel thing, I’ve been trying to pinpoint where which is why I didn’t get back to you as quickly as usual. Like I said, busy,” Harper responds. His voice is level but she can hear his annoyance.

“So what now?”

“I’m going to head to Wales…”

“I can be ready in an hour…”

“Shannon you need to stay where you are. Something is happening and you need to stay out of it. I’ll keep you in the loop but _please_ promise me you’ll stay at the house, don’t even go to the Centre until you hear from me again.” Shannon goes still.

“Please Jude…”

“No. Shannon you have to stay where you are. Mitchell might double back to you.” Shannon closes her eyes and tears leak out and slip down her cheeks.

“Okay. If you do manage to speak to him, tell him my offer still stands.” She disconnects and drops her phone onto her bed. She covers her face with her hands and she just breathes.

* * *

 

Shannon calls the Centre and she makes her excuses to Jonathan who is very understanding. She spends the time on tenterhooks, waiting for the phone to ring or for a knock at the door. She can’t sleep; her gut is twisted with worry.

He’s been away for more than ten years; she’s had more than ten years to mourn him, to get over him and to get on with her life. He returns for barely a day and she’s back at square one.

* * *

 

Five torturous, treacherous days drift by and she feels like she’s about to lose her mind. Then she hears the low roar of a car engine and adrenaline bursts through her. He’s back, he’s returned to her. She runs to the front door and she throws it open. She waits expectantly.

Harper gets out of the car and she realises belatedly that it’s her car. He’s pale and worn out. Shannon waits. She looks past him.

There’s no one there. She frowns and looks at Harper who slowly approaches her.

“Where’s Mitchell?” His expression is neutral as he places his hands on her shoulders.

“Let’s go inside,” he tells her in a sombre voice and she feels a faint trembling of fear.

She allows him to lead her back into the house. Once he closes the door she spins around and she looks up at him.

“Jude, tell me. Where’s Mitchell. Why isn’t he here? Did he change his mind?” Harper stares at her and he sighs long and shakily. He reaches for her, his eyes never leaving her face. He watches how her eyes go slowly wider as realisation, understanding begins to filter through.

“Tell me.” It comes out as a whisper and he swallows.

“I was too late. Mitchell is dead Shannon. Wyndam got there before me. He wanted Mitchell as his…attack dog and his friend…ended him. A kind of mercy killing but he’s gone.” He keeps his tone as gentle as possible and he sees her eyes fill with tears.

“He was going to come back here and be with me,” she whispers, her brain still grappling with the thought of Mitchell not being around. Harper slowly shakes his head.

“No Shannon, I think he said that to placate you. He had a plan all along, he just came to say goodbye.” He sees how she frowns, the ferocity in her expression.

“He’s my sire Harper…he can’t just leave me.”

“Shannon, he left you ten years ago.” His arms go around her as her legs give way from under her.

* * *

 

“What happened…to Wyndam…did you see him?” She looks at him. He lowers himself onto the sofa beside her and he slips an arm across her shoulders and draws her up against him.

“No I didn’t. He’s not in the picture anymore; the werewolf ended him too, protecting his partner and his unborn child.” He looks at Shannon as she sits back up and stares at him in amazement.

“Wyndam is dead too?” she gasps. He nods.

“How does that make you feel, knowing he isn’t walking the earth…those centuries of animosity between you…”

“I don’t feel glad if that’s what you’re wondering. No…I feel strangely empty somehow but not glad he’s dead, well… maybe just a little bit.”

“So what happens in the vampire hierarchy, who steps into his shoes now?” Harper sighs and removes his arm from her shoulders. He leans back against the sofa.

“I’m not sure. Next on the list is Lord Harry, or Hal. He’s a very, very nasty piece of work but he disappeared fifty odd years ago and nobody knows whether he’s alive or dead.” His expression becomes serious. “It’s one of the great mysteries of our world, whatever happened to Hal.”

“And what do you think happened to him? Do you think he’s still alive?” Harper smiles faintly.

“I think he is and I think he’s just waiting for his moment.”

 

**END.**


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